The Love Shield
by ColorfulWords
Summary: Set after the Battle of Hogwarts. Before Hermione leaves for Australia to find her parents, Harry gives her a gift. When it mysteriously saves her life, things get complicated for the Golden Trio. Slow burn H/Hr. Canon except for 19 Years Later.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter was surrounded. He could hear the cheers and feel the ground shaking as if in joy. He saw people dancing throughout the Great Hall, the corridors, the common rooms, as he wandered aimlessly through the crowds, almost unnoticed. Except-

"Harry! M'boy!" Slughorn. Harry turned, slowly, feeling every bone and muscle in his body groan in pain, in exhaustion.

"Professor," Harry said flatly, watching the potions master waddle towards him. His eyes were bright, shining with mirth. Harry wondered idly if he had lost anyone that night, and immediately regretted it, as he was flooded with pictures of Tonks, Colin Creevy, Lupin, and Fred. It was as if someone had stuck a knife in his stomach.

"Harry! Harry, Harry, Harry." Slughorn had reached him,and was pulling him into a side hug. "How do you like the party, M'boy? Boy who lived, eh? Mr Chosen one?'" Harry felt a choking sensation while Slughorn burst into laughter, followed by his posse of friends, students, and former students.

"It's great," said Harry earnestly, an easy lie. "I'm, uh, honoured. It's great to see everyone so happy." Once again, his intestines twisted at the thought of those who never had the chance to be happy. Who would never know a world without Voldemort, but had fought for it just the same.

"Well," Slughorn was saying. "I must say I am surprised you are so free! Where are your gaggle of fans? Perhaps a young lady or two? They didn't dump you, did they?" The crowd behind Slughorn seemed to find this enormously funny. "Ah, to be young and famous- didn't I tell you many of my former students went onto greatness? Perhaps you would like to meet a few of them?" Although in that moment there was nothing Harry would have liked less than meeting old members of the Slug Club, he found himself nodding. "Well of course you do, m'boy! This is your newest group of friends, I assure you. Nothing like talking one famous soul to another, eh?" Slughorn again let out a booming laughter that was quickly followed by a few half hearted chuckles from the crowd behind him. Harry felt as though their laughs were just as fake as the smile plastered across his own face. He had a hard time believing Slughorn's 'famous soul' assessment, and he had a feeling that the others did too.

A young brunette shook his hand vigorously. "Delilah Amberton, Mr. Potter. I'm a chaser for the Holyhead Harpies. Perhaps you've heard of us?"

Harry nodded wearily. "My girl-" He stopped, then rephrased. "My friend is a big fan. She talks about you all the time." His stomach twisted. The last time he had seen Ginny she had been crying in her mother's arms. Unbidden, tears began to fill his eyes.

Delilah smiled brightly. "That is an honor, Mr. Potter. Truly." Harry forced a smile, lips numb. There was an awkward silence, before the girl was pushed aside by a burly man in his early thirties.

"Peter Cadori, Deputy Head of Magical Artefacts. It's great to finally meet you. Have you considered a job in the Ministry?" He said this all very quickly, all the while furiously shaking Harry's entire arm.

"No, actually, I haven't," Harry said bluntly, withdrawing his hand. Cadori frowned uncomfortably.

"I see. Well, I know you're under quite a bit of pressure now, but I'm sure you'll reconsider."

"I won't," Harry snapped.

"Now, see here young man," Cadori growled. Harry balled his hands into fists, not even bothering to reach for his newly repaired wand. "You may be a hero, but keep that attitude, and I promise you-"

"Harry! I've been looking for you everywhere!" Harry spun around to see a bushy haired girl hurrying towards him, face flushed. "You've got to come with me, now!"

" _Hermione?"_ Harry asked incredulously. "I thought you were-"

"For Merlin's sake, Harry, there's no time!" Hermione had grabbed his arm and was now pulling him away from Slughorn.

"Oh, right. Er, bye, Professor!"

"Goodbye, M'boy!" Slughorn yelled down the corridor, chuckling to himself.

Hermione turned right, then left, then left again, followed by two rights, pulling Harry into a part of the castle he had seldom been in. "Hermione," Harry gasped, out of breath. "Slow down!"

She stopped immediately, sending Harry crashing into her. "Right. Sorry." Hermione said apologetically.

Harry rubbed his head and sighed. "Are you going to tell me what the big deal is?" He asked after a moment, desperately trying not to think about who it could be. "Is someone else-?" His heart seemed to be caught in his throat as he forced the words out.

Hermione frowned. "No, Harry, everyone is fine. You don't need to be worried about anyone."

Harry felt like a million bricks had been lifted off his shoulders. He collapsed against the stone wall with a breath of relief. _Everyone is fine_ , he told himself. _Everyone is okay._

"I'm sorry I scared you," Hermione said anxiously, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. "But I could feel your misery across the room. It was the first thing I thought of."

Harry stood slowly. "Yeah, thanks, 'Mione." He began to walk away, head down, already lost in thought.

"Hey!" Hermione had her hand on his shoulder before he had gotten two feet. "And where exactly do you think you're going?" She had her hands on her hips, left foot tapping.

Harry gestured vaguely. "I dunno. Somewhere." He turned around, only to see Hermione had now strode in front of him.

"Harry, I know this is hard for you, but you have to stop isolating yourself!" She chided. "I'm trying to help you!"

"I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP!" Harry burst out, suddenly angry. Hermione looked taken aback. "Okay? Why doesn't anyone understand I just want to be alone?!"

For a long moment, Hermione just stood there, opposite to her best friend of seven years. Then, she spoke, softly. "You don't believe that, Harry. I know you don't." She sighed. "But it's not my choice." She moved closer to him, then added, "You can't push me away, you know."

She pivoted on one foot, then rapidly sped down the long corridor. Harry's heart had jumped back into his throat. He watched her go, unable to comprehend what he had just done. _It's not my fault,_ he thought angrily. _She doesn't understand_!

"Hermione, wait!"


	2. Chapter 2

The sun was setting on the Black Lake, casting a fiery light on the Hogwarts Castle. Harry and Hermione sat in the Astronomy Tower, gazing at the sunset, in silence. Hermione put her hand on top of Harry's, then spoke tentatively.

"I know how hard this must be, Harry," she said comfortingly.

"We won the war," Harry replied. "But we lost, too."

"Harry," Hermione chided gently. "You've saved so many people. Don't forget that."

Harry smiled hollowly. "You've helped. You were brilliant, Hermione." She blushed furiously.

"We worked together," she conceded. "But Harry, you mustn't blame yourself. I know it's easy to say, but honestly, Harry. This is killing you. You should be celebrating."

"And why aren't you celebrating?" He asked.

Hermione blushed again, and even in the dark, Harry saw it and grinned. "Well, if I'm being honest, I'm sort of avoiding-Ron."

This took Harry by complete surprise. "You're kidding." Hermione shook her head and looked down. "Why- why in the world-"

"It's..." She paused. "It's awkward, Harry! I don't know how to act around him... after, well, you know."

"Just... Just be yourself, 'Mione. That's who Ron likes."

Hermione rested her head on Harry's shoulder, and he leaned his head on hers. He remembered, suddenly, the night they had gotten back from Godric's Hollow.

 _Dejected, cold, and defeated, Hermione had leaned against a frosty tree, and closed her eyes._

 _"Let's just stay here, Harry," she had whispered. "Grow old..."_

Harry shook his head furiously, the memory disappearing into wisps on the wind. He gazed into the now rising moon, wondering idly how it had survived so many thousands of years of constant bombardment from meteors.

"I feel lost, Hermione," Harry admitted. "Even more than when we were hunting horcruxes. I just- I don't know what to do."

"Well," Hermione said. "I guess we rebuild our lives. Hey, I'll make you a deal. I'll go talk to Ron if you go talk to Ginny. I know you've been avoiding her."

"I haven't-"

"Harry, honestly, I'm not that stupid!" Hermione interrupted impatiently. "I see you two. I've grown up with both of you. Come one. You know I'm right."

Harry groaned. "Hermione, can't I just-"

"No!" Hermione stood and brushed herself off. Look, I'm going to talk to Ron, and you are going to go make things right with Ginny. Do we have a deal?"

At that point Harry would have liked nothing better than to say no, but he knew Hermione wasn't really asking, and he didn't fancy having her angry at him for two months. She held a large grudge.

"Fine," He sighed. "Deal."

 **Hey guys! I know this story is sort of slow, but I really want to try to capture the characters in a way true to the books. Because this is a Harmony story, and it is canon with the last book, there are a lot of loose ends I need to tie up before I can start in on the true romance portion. Anyway, I'll try and get there as soon as I can. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

Harry found his ex-girlfriend sitting in the Great Hall, with a cup of butterbeer in one hand. Remembering his deal with Hermione, and consciously feeling her glare from across the room, Harry slid in next to Ginny.

"Hey," he said, putting on hand on her shoulder. Ginny turned to him, her eyes red with tears, and then felling crying into his arms.

Instinctively, Harry put his arms around her. Her sobbing was unnerving- Ginny never cried, and it was making Harry feel distinctly uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said as she pulled away from him. "I'm such an awful mess."

Harry smiled weakly. "Me too," he admitted.

"It's just-" Ginny swallowed before continuing. "It's just first it was Fred, and then Tonks, and Lupin, and then you-" Her resolved broke and a tear slid down her cheek. "I really thought you were dead!"

"I'm sorry, Gin. Really-"

"You didn't even have the decency to say goodbye to me!"

Harry leaned away from her. "Ginny, I couldn't-" He was interrupted by him punching his shoulder. "Ow! What the bloody hell was that for!"

"That," she punched him again. "Was for leaving!" Harry rubbed his arm. The girl could throw a punch. "And this," Ginny kissed him on the cheek. "Is for coming back."

Harry felt himself growing red. "Er, thanks, I guess?" He said, unsure whether he should be angry or happy. Did girls really have to be so confusing?

Ginny flipped her hair over one shoulder unapologetically. "You're welcome," she laughed.

Suddenly, Harry wanted nothing more than to kiss her. He leaned in, slowly closing his eyes and tilting his head, until their lips met.

And then-

Nothing.

Harry kissed her again, harder, searching for the passion that he had felt for her only days before.

Still he felt nothing.

Harry pulled away to find Ginny looking at him curiously.

"I'm sorry..." Harry said slowly. "But that felt like-I mean- I dunno," He finished lamely.

She blinked at him. "I thought-" Ginny started. "I thought you liked me. What happened?"

Harry felt like puking. What was going on with him? He loved Ginny. Didn't he? "I'm- I'm sorry, but-"

"Forget it!" Ginny said angrily. "I'm an idiot." She stood up from the table. "I think we need a break. I need to be with my family. Let's just- do this later, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Harry said, but she had already left. "Fantastic. Just fantastic!"

He stood too, shoving the table out from under him. He kicked it again, just for good measure, angry at the world. _Why do I have to mess everything up?_ He yelled at himself internally, then stalked away, hoping Hermione had had better luck.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hermione?"

Silence.

"Hermione?"

No response.

Harry had seen his best friend rushing out of the Great Hall, but had no idea where she had gone. He checked the library first, or what was left of it. Books were strewn all over the place, falling open to pages on the summoning spells, the draught of living death, and arithmancy. They were badly water-stained and often torn in half, or burned black, words obscured. Harry had known immediately Hermione wasn't there- she would have been horrified by the damage. Harry, too, couldn't help but feel anger at the state of the once great library. It certainly wasn't his favorite place- actually, it was probably his second most hated place in the entire castle, the first being the dungeon. But he had memories there- cramming before exams with Ron, hearing Hermione chiding them both for how behind they were, studying for the second task, looking for Nicolas Flamel. Harry grimaced and mentally added the library to the long list of things Voldemort had taken from him. He knelt to the floor and picked up a damaged book, splayed open and lying on it's face. Closing it gently, Harry turned it over and brushed the dust off of it.

It was _Hogwarts, a History_.

Harry smiled and gently placed it on Madam Pince's desk- fortunately still intact.

He then turned around and left the library, closing the doors behind him. Without seeing the fallen walls and the toppled bookshelves, the library looked peaceful, untouched by violence.

"Hey, Harry."

Harry spun around to see a gangly redhead striding towards him.

"Ron!" They paused awkwardly, unsure whether to hug each other or not.

After a moment, Ron said "Er, have you seen Hermione?"

"Actually, I was just looking for her," Harry replied. "I checked the library- I was thinking about going to the Gryffindor common room next."

"I already checked," Ron said. "It's pretty much gone- not really anywhere to go." He looked at his feet. "I'm sorry, mate."

Harry swallowed hard. "It's fine. Not a big deal."

And it shouldn't have been. After all he had lost, after all they had all lost, one tower, a few rooms-it shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. But Harry couldn't help but remember the comfort of his 4-poster bed and the warmth of the Gryffindor Common Room fire. His chest ached with longing, a feeling now so familiar it seemed normal.

Suddenly, Harry spoke. "The Room of Requirement!"

Ron looked up. "Er, what?"

"I know where Hermione is. I mean, I sort of know where she is- she's in the Room of Requirement!"

Ron looked skeptical. "Why would she go there?"

Harry paused, the said, "Because- well, the castle has been almost completely destroyed and her two favorite places, probably in the whole world- went with it. But the Room of Requirement could recreate them, right?"

"I guess..." Ron said slowly. His face broke into a familiar grin. "You're really starting to sound just like her, you know that?"

"Don't remind me," Harry groaned. "Now let's go find the _real_ Hermione."

As they began walking towards the seventh floor, Ron said, "I mean, if you just grew your hair out a bit- maybe put in some fake teeth-"

For the first time in a long time, Harry laughed.

 **Hey guys! I know these chapters are really short, and I'm sorry about that, but I don't have a lot of time to write this story, so I'm just posting short chapters whenever I can. Anyway, I've been so pleased with the number of people who have been reading/following/favoriting this story! I'm having fun writing it, and I hope you're having some fun reading it. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

"This isn't working," Ron said, throwing his hands in the air.

Harry and Ron had been trying for the better part of half and hour to get into the Room of Requirement, but no matter what they tried, the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy refused to give way.

"Maybe she isn't here," Ron sighed.

"She's here," Harry replied quickly. "Have you tried _'I need to find Hermione Granger'_?"

Ron snorted. "That and every other variation of the same phrase. We aren't getting in, mate."

But Harry refused to give up. He walked to the portrait and leaned against the wall. If he tried hard enough, would he be able to hear her breathing?

"Maybe it wasn't just the Room of Hidden Things that got destroyed," Ron was saying. "Maybe it just doesn't exist anymore." Harry hated to agree, but he was losing faith in this idea by the minute. _Maybe I just don't know Hermione as well as I think I do_ , he thought miserably.

"She's angry with me," Ron blurted suddenly. "That's why she bolted."

Harry suddenly felt relieved that he wasn't the only one with girl problems. "What happened?" he asked, trying to sound sorry for Ron's situation.

Ron shrugged. "I dunno. She so moody, mate. One minute we're snogging-oh, bugger off, Harry- and the next she's yelling at me."

Before Harry could open up his mouth to respond, the wall behind Barmy rumbled and divided, sprouting a simple door in the middle of the blank wall. The nob turned and the door opened. Hermione Granger was standing before them, looking shaken.

"Hermione!" Ron and Harry both jumped to their feet.

Ron ran to her, and hugged her awkwardly. "Er, hi."

"Hi," Hermione said, looking at the two of them. She suddenly looked very pleased. "How did you know where to find me, Ron?"

Ron stammered, "Er, actually-"

"He just knew you'd be here," Harry interrupted rapidly. "He said we had to try and get in, and, er, he wouldn't give up trying." _Come on, Ron. Play along._

"Er, yeah, right!" Thankfully, Ron grasped the concept immediately. "Because the library was destroyed, and so was the Gryffindor Tower- um, I decided to... to..."

"He remembered the Room of Requirement," Harry finished. "It can turn into already existing rooms, right, Ron?"

"Right-erm, yeah."

Hermione looked skeptically at Ron, then at Harry, then back at Ron. _She doesn't believe us_ , Harry thought in panic. Then, much to his surprise, Hermione threw her arms around Ron and hugged him back. "Ron, I'm so- proud of you!"

"Uh, you are?" Ron stood there, unmoving. Harry kicked him in the foot. "Oww-Uh, of course you are!"

They broke apart, then Hermione said, gently chiding, "Well, you were wrong about where I was in the Room. I actually asked for my old bedroom," She smiled forlornly. "I sort of miss it."

Ron nodded, confused, but Harry understood immediately. Although Hogwarts was his home, there was a part of him (a ver, very, _very_ small part of him, mind you), that missed his cupboard under the stairs. "Everything was so much simpler back then," He murmured.

"What?" Ron asked.

"Erm, nothing," Harry blushed red, as he had not meant to voice his thoughts aloud.

Ron opened his mouth, but Hermione quickly jumped in, much to Harry's relief. "So I was thinking... now that the battle is over-" she bit her lip anxiously before continuing. _She always does that when she's nervous_ , Harry grinned inwardly. _It's adorable_. "I think it's time for me to go find my parents."

"What?!" Ron reacted quickly, pulling away from her.

"Ronald, calm down. I'd just be there for a few weeks, just until I can find them. I could take a plane- alright, Ron, I'll take a _portkey_ \- and then I could restore their memories and we could come back to England."

Harry fell silent, his stomach churning. He knew Hermione was going to leave soon or later- he had just hoped it would be later.

"I think you should go, Hermione," Harry said softly.

"We're coming with you!" Ron demanded, shooting Harry an angry glare.

"Thanks Ron, but this is something I have to do-" Hermione paused, her eyes misty. "I have to do it on my own."

"What if you get hurt?" Ron countered. "No. I'm coming."

Hermione stood her ground. "No, Ron! I'm doing this my way. I can take care of myself. You don't have to protect me, alright?!" With that, she stomped off in the opposite direction, leaving Ron fuming.

"You know, she does have a point," Harry told Ron semi-apologetically. "She doesn't need us."

 _But boy, do we need her_.


	6. Chapter 6

Since their fight two days ago, Ron and Hermione had refused to talk to each other, leaving Harry to be the messenger.

"You can tell Ron," Hermione had said stiffly. "That I can talk care of myself, thank you very much!"

Ron had responded just as badly. "Oh yeah? Well you can tell Hermione that I'm _so_ sorry about trying to be a good boyfriend!" He then stalked off in search of Neville.

Privately, Harry thought that they were both over-reacting. Desperate, he had started asking Luna for advice, which was of course a terrible idea.

"You know," she said dreamily. "They're probably part of the Rotfang Conspiracy. I always knew their was something wrong with that Hermione Granger- have you tried slipping them Ragged Hornefruit? I've heard it's very effective..."

Unwilling to ask what a Ragged Hornefruit was, Harry had slipped quietly away into the dungeon of the school. The Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff common rooms had all been severely damaged in the battle, so Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, and a few others were staying in Slytherin Common Room. It struck Harry that he could have lived there- had he been sorted into Slytherin- but he could hardly imagine it now. The rooms were oppressing, and even the large dormitories felt like they were closing in on him. Shivering, Harry walked down a long, dim hallway to the second door from the end. He hesitated, then knocked.

"Coming!" Hermione called from inside the room. She opened the door and welcomed Harry into the small room.

For some reason, Hermione's dormitory always felt bigger and warmer than the others. It had the same silver and green decorations on the walls, the same ornate snake carved into the headboard of the bed, and the same thick grey carpet over the cold stone ground, but even so, Harry immediately felt at home. He stomach clenched when he saw Hermione's truck on the ground, with her books and clothes neatly folded.

"I'm just..." Hermione gestured clumsily. "Packing."

"What happened to your bag?" Harry asked, avoiding the bigger question.

Hermione smiled. "I still have it," She said, rummaging through the truck until she pulled out the familiar beaded bag. "But I don't need it anymore. I'm not on the run anymore."

Harry stood in the doorway, filled with an odd sense of longing. There was something nice, he decided, about being on the run, although he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

"So," He said finally. "When do you leave?"

Hermione sat down on the bed in the center of the rectangular room, and combed one hand through her exceedingly messy hair. She picked up her wand and muttered " _Colloportus!_ " at her trunk, which immediately closed and locked itself with an audible _click_. "Actually, I was going to leave in about an hour."

"An hour?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Yes. It's better this way, Harry. Honestly, I can't stand bickering with Ron any longer."

"Ah, right." Harry cleared his throat. "He wants me to tell you that he doesn't-" Hermione put up her hand, and he paused, then added. "Were you going to say goodbye?"

Hermione looked offended. "Of course I was! I was planning on visiting your room right before you walked in."

Harry chuckled. "I wouldn't have been there," he replied earnestly. "I hate that room." _I don't mind yours, though._

Hermione grinned too, then stood up and walked over to him. She hugged him so tightly he gasped. "I'll miss you, Harry," she whispered.

After gaining his breath back, Harry put his arms around her waist and hugged back, relishing in feeling comfortable and safe. "I'll miss you, too."

She pulled away from him, then looked up, severity in her large brown eyes. "You have to promise me, Mr. Potter, that you won't go looking for trouble while I'm gone."

"No promises," Harry playfully responded. This earned him a well deserved smack on the head. "Oww! Okay, okay, I promise!" He then took a deep breath. "But in return, you have to promise me something too."

"What is it?" Hermione asked, skeptically.

Slowly, Harry pulled a small, brown box tied in a red ribbon out of his robe pocket. "It's-er- it's a gift. For you."

Hermione took the box, puzzled. "You didn't need to get me a gift, Harry."

"It's to make up for not having a Christmas present for you last year," He said quickly.

Hermione had the good sense not to say anything, and instead began to open the gift. Harry felt incredibly nervous, and his throat had gone dry.

"Harry... It's beautiful!" Hermione gasped.

It was necklace, silver, with a small pendant of an otter on the front. The otter looped in and out of the frame of the necklace, playfully swimming through the dark blue background. "Help me put it on." She turned around and handed the necklace to him, then parted her hair. His hands shook as he unclasped the silver chain and draped it around Hermione's neck. Struggling to close it, his hand brushed against Hermione's neck and he withdrew very suddenly. She turned her head, surprised. "Is something wrong, Harry?" she asked, sounding worried. Harry shook his head one too many times until she turned away.

"There," he said, finally. "It's-I know it's your patronus- and mine always made me feel safer- so, erm-" he trailed off, unsure how to continue. Shuffling his feet, Harry inwardly cursed himself for being so nervous. _It's just Hermione, for Merlin's sake!_ He told himself.

"It's lovely," Hermione said earnestly, touching the pendant. "I'll get you something in Australia, I promise."

Immensely relieved, Harry turned to leave the room. "Right, so, I'll go now." Suddenly, he felt Hermione touch his shoulder.

"Harry," Hermione began quietly. "I know the Room of Requirement was your idea, not Ron's."

Harry froze. "Er, I dunno what you're talking about- Ron was brilliant, really, I just tagged along-"

"Really?" Hermione exclaimed angrily. "I'm not an idiot, Harry. Ron is many things, but a good liar is not one of them! And I don't need you too lying to me! Not anymore! I'm not a kid, Harry. Honestly!" She finished, sounding disappointed and upset.

"Hermione, we didn't mean it like that-"

"I don't care how you meant it! I thought we were best friends, Harry."

Harry honestly couldn't see why Hermione was so angry at him. "Hermione, calm down!"

It was apparently the wrong thing to say. Within and instant, Hermione had pulled out her wand and directed it at him. Almost as quickly, Harry had pulled out his own wand, and was yelling " _Protego!"_

Hermione's first stunning spell bounced off his shield, but was quickly followed by another curse and two hexes. Frantically, Harry released the shield charm and backed out the door. Slamming it shut, he raised his wand once more and shouted _"Colloportus!"_ effectively locking the door. Breathing heavily, he raced down the hallway, but Hermione did not follow him. For a few seconds, he waited with baited breath, then, convinced she was still in her room, he sunk to the floor of the corridor.

"Harry?"

It was Neville.

"Harry, what happened to you?"

"Girls," Harry gasped. "Girls are bloody mad!"

 **A/N: Hey guys! Below is the necklace Harry gives Hermione (except it doesn't move). What did you think of Hermione attacking Harry? I promise there is a reason she is upset. Anyway, thanks for reading!** **.**

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	7. Chapter 7

"She did what?" Ron whisper shouted.

"Attacked me," Harry repeated for the forth time that hour. He waved his wand at a pile of splintered sticks. " _Reparo,"_. The desk flew into the air and reassembled themselves. Harry tapped it twice, hen smiled, pleased it held together.

Ron, on his right, was struggling to repair a large cabinet- perhaps because he could not stop talking.

"I just don't believe it," he said. " _Reparo!"_ Nothing happened.

"Me either," Harry muttered, rubbing his left shoulder which he had banged against the wall in the fight. He moved on to the next pile of wood, and repaired it into a bookshelf.

"I mean, it's not like she's even-keeled or anything, but-" Ron shrugged.

Harry nodded. He was still unsure of what had happened between him and Hermione: or, rather, why it happened. He'd fought with Ron before, and certainly verbally with Hermione, but it had never gotten physical between the two of them. Both of his friends could be hotheads, especially with each other, but Harry generally could count on Hermione being the more sensible one, usually.

He looked over at the red-head, who had gotten to furiously waving his wand and shouting at the broken cupboard in front of him. " _Reparo! Reparo! REPARO!_ "

Professor Flitwick, who had been advising several students on how to best raise the southern wall, seemed to become upset with the shouting.

"Stop!" he yelped in a squeaky voice. "Mr Weasley, please calm down, or-"

At that moment, the pile in front of Ron flew into the air and seemed to begin to fix itself. Ron looked pleased. "Well," he said, panting. "That wasn't so hard-" the wooded bookshelf exploded into at least fifty pieces and promptly hit Ron and Professor Flitwick in the face, along with a few angry looking fifth years who had also been helping with the cleanup. Harry had ducked at the last second possible, diving under the desk he had repaired only minutes before to escape the onslaught.

"Out!" He heard Flitwick squeal. "Out out out!" Peaking from behind the desk, Harry saw the small man advancing on Ron, who looked genuinely terrified. Quickly, Harry jumped out from under the desk, and grabbed Ron's arm, pulling him out the door.

"Er, sorry, Professor!" He said abruptly. "We, er, have to go!" Once in the safety of the corridor, Harry looked at Ron. "Did you get him good?" he asked his best friend.

Ron looked horrified. "It hit him right in the forehead!"

Harry grinned, unable to hold in his laughter. "I thought you got your wand fixed before Third Year," he teased.

Ron punched him in the shoulder, then, if possible, grew paler than his already pasty complexion. "You, er, won't tell Hermione about this, will you?"

Harry pretended to think about this for a moment, enjoying seeing Ron becoming visibly distressed. "I suppose not," he said finally. Ron let out a huge sigh of relief. "But you might have to let me win just _one_ game of wizard's chess."

Offended, Ron exclaimed, "I will not!"

"Well," Harry sighed as they made their way back down to the Slytherin dormitories. "It was worth a shot, right?"

Two days later, Harry and Ron were walking the grounds of Hogwarts, tired from three hours spent in the Ravenclaw Tower, raising walls, binding books, and repairing shelves. Under the watchful eye of Professor McGonagall, the two boys had not been able to talk all morning. Ron stretched and yawned.

"I dunno why we couldn't fix the Gryffindor Tower first," He muttered. "I hate that underground prison."

Harry couldn't agree more. "It's bloody awful."

"Hey," Rom offered. "Let's apparate to Hogsmeade for a mug of a firewhiskey. I never thought I'd say this, but I need a break from this place."

"Good plan," Harry chuckled. "Only one problem. You can't apparate in or out of Hogwarts, Ron."

Ron frowned. "Have I mentioned you've been sounding like-"

"Hermione?" Harry finished for him. "Yeah, once or twice."

Ron bit his lip. "D'you think she's okay?"

Harry felt that all too familiar tugging in his chest. _Why did she attack me? Does she hate me, or something_? "She can handle herself," he said, finally. He rubbed his shoulder, which still ached. "And I've got the bruise to prove it."

Ron laughed a little. "So I guess we're walking, then?"

"Mr. Weasley. Mr. Potter." Harry and Ron spun around to see their old transfiguration professor striding across the lawn towards them.

"Oh no," Ron murmured to Harry. "Must've forgotten to fix a window or something."

"Potter, Weasley. Come with me, quickly." McGonagall had reached them, her long robe blowing in the summer wind.

"But, Professor-" Ron sputtered.

"We were just going to grab a bite to eat," Harry said. Right on cue, Ron's stomach growled. "We'll be back soon, Professor, we promise."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "I'm sorry, Ronald, Harry, but you'll have to postpone your lunch. I'm afraid I have some rather bad news-"

Harry lurched. "Bad news?" he spluttered. Was it Ginny? Neville? Luna? Who else could he stand to lose?

"No," the Headmistress paused. "It's Ms. Granger-she's-she appears to be dead."

 **A/N: Little cliffhanger for you guys! What do you think is gonna happen? Anyway, thanks for all the positive reviews and follows!**


	8. Chapter 8

_I'm going to retch._

Harry and Ron stood motionlessly in front of Room 394, not wanting to go in. Harry didn't know about Ron, but he couldn't stop staring at the plaque, which read **_Hᴇʀᴍɪᴏɴᴇ Jᴇᴀɴ Gʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ_**. The name had been hastily slipped into the available slot. Harry felt his stomach flip, as he read the name over and over again. He gritted his teeth.

 _This isn't happening,_ he told himself furiously. _This_ can't _be happening._

But the total awfulness of the situation was too hard to ignore.

"We should go in," Ron said dully.

Harry nodded stiffly, but neither of them reached for the door. For a long few seconds, both of them stood there, staring at the entryway.

 _For Merlin's sake,_ Harry chided internally. _You've gone up against Voldemort! Why are you so terrified?_ He gulped audibly, and reached for the handle, hands shaking uncontrollably.

Before he could turn the nob, however, the door swung open and male Healer in a lime-green robe stepped through.

He looked grim. "Hello, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," he said to both of them. "I'm Healer Joseph Akker." In any other time, this would be an honor, truly."

Harry's head felt numb as he nodded dumbly. Swallowing hard, Harry forced the words out. "Is she- is she really dead?"

The Healer frowned almost gently. "It's- it's rather difficult to say."

Ron grimaced. "What d'you mean it's 'difficult to say'?"

"She's-she has no pulse, no brain activity, not reflexes. By all accounts, she should be dead."

Harry felt his heart leap to his throat in hope. "But- she's alive?"

Healer Akker nodded slowly. "She's-alive. Although I'm not sure you could consider her 'living'. You see, boys," he paused. "She's seems to have been the receiver of a killing curse."

All of the air seemed to have been knocked out of Harry. "You're saying- you're saying she was attacked?" The man nodded again, and Harry felt the walls closing in on them. He was suffocating, unable to breathe. Was this worse? Was it better?

"...Not sure what happened, but it seems to have been a retaliation by His followers," Healer Akker was saying.

"Death Eaters?" Ron whispered hoarsely. "I thought they were all gone- dead or in Azkaban!" He balled his hands into fists, his face going as red as his hair. "I... I have to take a walk," Ron muttered fiercely. "I just can't-" And with that, he stalked off down the hallway.

Harry blinked a tear from his eye, determined to stay strong. "So," he said. "How did Hermione survive?"

The Healer turned to Harry and looked him up and down, as if scanning him with the x-ray vision Harry used to read about it old comic books Dudley had thrown out. "Mr. Potter," Healer Akker said finally. "I assume you understand the notion of a love shield?"

Harry, confused, nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I've a bit of an idea."

The healer cleared his throat. "Well, the only person to ever survive the killing curse to this date has been you. And to the best of my knowledge, your mother saved you life because of such a love shield."

Harry, still bewildered, nodded again. His stomach was doing backflips. "Just- can you get to the point? What does this have to do with Hermione?"

"Ms. Granger should have died in Australia, Mr. Potter. But she survived- because of a love shield."

Harry shook his head uncomprehendingly. "You mean someone gave their life for her? Her parents?"

Healer Akker put his hand on the young man's shoulder. "Her parents were dead at the scene. We believe they were dead long before Ms. Granger was attacked." He withdrew his hand and clasped his fingers together. "No, no one was on the scene directly to save her. Which is probably why she's in such a critical state. But regardless..." the healer paused, almost dramatically. He drew a long breath while Harry waited on pins and needles. "Perhaps you should come with me, Mr. Potter." He gestured to the room behind him.

"I... I just don't understand."

"I know," the older man said empathetically. "But you have to know, this area of magic is incredibly complicated and unexplored. There is so much unknown. It would be irresponsible of me to speculate." He put his hands in his robe pockets. "We do have a specialist from the Ministry coming in a few hours. But please, for now, come with me."

Harry looked at Healer Akker, his head spinning. Was Hermione dead? Was she going to die? How was she saved?

"I'll come in," Harry said at last. "On one condition." He breathed heavily. "You have to save her life. Please. She doesn't deserve to die. Please, please save her."

For the first time in their conversation, the healer smiled fully. "I'm glad we're on the same page, Mr. Potter."


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: Sorry it's been so long! I had to write a long research paper and I just had zero time. Hope this longer chapter will help. Thanks for the continued support!**_

Harry closed the door quietly, arms shaking. Although it had been several long hours since he had first stepped into Room 394, the sparsely lit room still sent shivers up his spine. He glanced around quickly, his eyes falling on Ron, who was slouched in the plush armchair in the corner. He let out a large snore.

 _Typical Ron,_ Harry thought with a small inward grin. _Only he could sleep through this._

Sighing heavily, Harry turned his gaze to the cot in the center of the space. His breath caught as he saw Hermione lying motionless. No matter what any of the healers seemed to do, they couldn't manage to wake her up. Harry carefully rested gently on the edge of the bed, unable to stop from staring at his best friend. He took her cold, lifeless hand in his.

"Come on, Hermione," he whispered hoarsely, surprised at the sound of his own voice. "Wake up."

Daring to hope, Harry willed her to miraculously awake, and to start asking him why she had no books in this hospital room. But she didn't.

"Ahem." A soft feminine voice sounded behind him. Harry whirled around, pulling his wand out of his robe pocket. "There's no need for that, Mr. Potter." A woman in her mid-twenties stepped into the light.

"Who are you?" Harry demanded, not lowering his wand.

She smiled, showing perfectly white teeth against her red lipstick. "I'm Amber Riverton, Ministry of Magic. I believe you were told I was coming."

Stiffly, Harry nodded. "Yeah, er, that's what the healer said." He swallowed. "Can you make her- can you make her wake up?"

The woman stepped forward into the light. "I'm not sure," she replied truthfully. "This area of magic is so unexplored."

Harry shook his head, confused. It seemed as though a haze had entered his mind. "Area- area of magic?"

"Love shields, Mr. Potter." Amber Riverton came to stand on the other side of Hermione's bed. "May I?" She gestured to the cot. Numbly, Harry nodded, every fiber in his body aching. He stood aside and watched as she pulled her wand from the bun atop her head, and began waving it gently over Hermione's body.

"Interesting..." She murmured, almost so Harry could not hear.

"Pardon?" Harry queried. "What's interesting?" Amber did not react. "Ms. Riverton, what's interesting?" The woman still did not respond, waving her wand and furiously muttering incantations Harry did not recognize under her breath.

 _Hermione would know what she was saying,_ Harry thought. Almost immediately, he felt as though he had been punched in the gut.

Suddenly, a yellow light seemed to explode from Hermione's chest. Stumbling backwards. Harry instinctively covered his eyes from the bright glare. "Hermione!" He shouted, almost incoherently. "What are you doing?" He demanded. "Stop it! You're hurting her!"

Then, just like it had started, instantaneously, the glow disappeared. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Amber.

"Mr. Potter," she shook him anxiously. "Are you alright?"

Blinking furiously, Harry shook his head. "No, I'm not. What the bloody hell did you do to her?"

Amber looked worried. "I've- I've never seen that strong of response before."

Harry opened his mouth to protest that she had not answered his question when Amber again grabbed him by the shoulder and propelled him towards Hermione's bed. Harry was amazed to see that she still rested peacefully, as if in sleep. He let out a breath of relief he didn't know he had been holding in. Temporarily consoled, Harry turned to Amber. "Response to what?" He managed to ask.

Amber moved aside Hermione's bushy hair carefully with her wand. "Mr. Potter, do you recognize this?" She pointed her wand as the silver otter pendant still hung around Hermione's neck.

Feeling sick, Harry replied, "Yeah- I- I gave it to her." his stomach turned dangerously. "Is... is that what's hurting her?"

Amber gave him a curious look he didn't understand. "No, Mr. Potter. Not at all."

Impatiently, Harry frowned. "I don't understand- what aren't you telling me?"

Amber cleared her throat, looking uncomfortable. "It's not really my place, Mr. Potter, so forgive me, but-" she paused. "I didn't realize you two were- together."

Harry almost laughed. "Wh- what? No, no. She's- she's like my sister." If possible, Amber looked more uneasy. "Erm, what does that have to do with anything?"

Amber shook her head. "It- it doesn't." She replied. "Mr. Potter, love shields, powerful ones- they can be transferred into objects."

Harry frowned. "You mean-"

"Yes, Mr. Potter. Based on your-er, friend's response, I believe that this necklace saved Ms. Granger's life."

"You're saying-" Harry swallowed hard, his throat clenching. "You're saying I saved her life?"

"That is- that is my best guess."

Harry looked at his best friend. "But- but I didn't die."

Amber eyed him carefully. "The rumor goes that on the night of the Battle of Hogwarts, you survived the killing curse yet again." She leaned in. "That He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named tried to murder you, and you survived."

Carefully, Harry nodded slowly. "I suppose you could put it like that..but, I don't get how-"

The woman stood straight, fixing her robes almost nervously. "Mr. Potter, I may be the foremost expert in this area, but until a few years the Ministry wasn't sure this was even a valid region of study." Amber took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I can't tell you more."

Harry's head was reeling. "Is she going to wake up, then?"

"I'm afraid I don't know that either."

Harry clenched his fists angrily. "So what the bloody hell do you know?!"

Amber seemed unnaturally calm. "I truly am sorry, Mr. Potter. I'll be back tomorrow, if you'll allow me. It was a pleasure to meet you. I only wish it were under better circumstances." She smiled weakly at Harry, then left, closing the door gently behind her. Once again, Harry was alone, with only Ron's snores to keep him company. He felt awkward, as though he was watching the scene from a distance.

He blinked, trying to shake the feeling. "You can love a friend, right?" He murmured to Hermione's lifeless form.

"Right?"


	10. Chapter 10

"I can't believe you let me miss the person from the Ministry. " Ron told Harry, taking a sandwich from the cafeteria plate in front of him.

Harry shrugged. "She didn't have anything to say," he lied. "And you needed sleep."

"I guess," Ron replied, nonplussed. He stuffed the food into his mouth and chewed happily. "Iziecomngbeck?"

"Say what?"

Ron swallowed. "Is she coming back?"

"Oh," Harry looked at the food on his plate in disgust. "I dunno," he fibbed again. "Maybe."

Truthfully, Harry had been searching for Amber Riverton's white-gold hair all day. He gritted his teeth, chewing on air, then rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"Blimey, mate," Ron said. "What was the last time you slept?"

Harry shook his head. "I dunno," he replied, telling the truth for the first time in the conversation. "I've tried, but- I can't." Enviously, Harry glanced at Ron's non-sleep-deprived eyes. He sighed heavily. "It's okay, though. Should we go back up?"

Ron bit into his sandwich again. "Maybe. But that room gives me the creeps, mate. It's worse than the Slytherin dorms, I swear."

Harry laughed hollowly. "That's saying something," he replied.

They fell into an awkward silence. Unable to eat because of the pit in his stomach, Harry idly fiddled with his wand, rolling it across the table as he used to do when he had first gotten it. He couldn't stop thinking about what he had learned the day before. Was he angry? Happy? Scared? All three?

Looking at Ron, who was mindlessly stuffing food into his mouth, Harry wondered how his best friend felt about the whole thing. Ron was never a very complex person- usually he felt one emotion at a time.

Almost smiling, Harry remembered the day in fifth year when he had kissed Cho.

" _Honestly, Ronald," Hermione badgered. "Just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have!"_

As usual, Hermione had been right. Suddenly, Harry remembered something else she had said that day.

" _I'm sure that Harry's kissing was more than satisfactory!"_

Harry shook his head, the memory disappearing into the crowded hospital. In the far corner, he noticed Healer Akker looking grave as he talked with a witch and her daughter. The girl broke out crying and raced across the room. Akker placed a hand on the witch's shoulder as she sobbed deeply into her hands.

"I'll be right back," Harry told Ron distractedly. Getting up, he pushed his way through the crowds, muttering "Sorry. Excuse me. Sorry."

The dark haired healer was moving on from the crying witch and was consulting the hovering clipboard in front of him.

"Pity," Harry heard him whisper.

"Sorry, sir, but what's a pity?" Harry asked.

"Mr. Potter!" Akker turned to the younger man, his face brightening. "Nothing of concern to you, dear boy."

Although he and Akker looked nothing alike, there was something about the healer that reminded him of Slughorn.

"Er, right. I wanted to know if Amb- Ms. Riverton was coming back."

Healer Akker nodded thoughtfully. "I do believe so. She's sent an owl early this morning saying she may have found some more information for you and Mr. Weasley."

Harry felt the familiar turning of his stomach. He had neglected to tell Ron anything but that Hermione had been saved by a love shield. Harry could hardly imagine how Ron might react if he knew what Amber had told him yesterday. The Healer placed a calloused hand on Harry's shoulder.

"If the shield is as strong as Ms. Riverton suggested, I have very little doubt Ms. Granger was awaken shortly."

There was a sharp intake of breath. "Re- really?"

Healer Akkar nodded. "I cannot say for certain, but-"

"Harry?"

Harry spun around to see what seemed to be a small army of redheads rushing towards him. Leading the cavalry was none other than Mrs. Weasley, arms outstretched to her foster son.

"Mrs. Weasley!" Harry fell gratefully into the offered hug, closing his eyes and letting the feeling of comfort overwhelm him. He couldn't remember the last time he had hugged someone.

Wait. Yes, he could. It was Hermione, in her dorm, before she left.

 _Before she attacked me_ , Harry reminded himself bitterly. He pulled away from Mrs. Weasley and was surprised to see the entirety of the Weasley family, including- his throat tightened- Ginny.

"I am so sorry to hear about Hermione, dear," Mrs. Weasley told him sympathetically. "We're sure she'll pull through." Harry nodded numbly. The older woman patted him on the back. "Where is Hermione's room? We would like to visit her."

"394," Harry muttered, looking down. Thankfully, Mrs. Weasley said no more, and led her family to where Ron was sitting.

Ginny, however, stayed behind. "Hey," she said softly.

"Er, hi," Harry responded, still staring at his feet. There was a long moment of silence between the two teenagers. Finally, Harry forced himself to look at her.

He had to admit she look good- well rested, with almost a halo of ginger hair surrounding her face. Her hazel eyes were soft and understanding. Harry could only imagine what he looked like to her. Nervously, he ran his hand through his unruly black hair.

"I'm really sorry about Hermione, Harry. I know how you feel about her."

Harry felt a knot rise in his throat. "You, er, you do?"

Ginny looked at him curiously. "Well, I mean, you're best friends, right?"

Instantly, he felt enormously relieved, although he could not pinpoint exactly why. "Yeah. Yeah, we were-" he paused painfully. "We are."

She nodded, then leaned in and pecked him gently on the cheek. Harry felt himself growing red. Ginny grinned. "You're cute when you're embarrassed, you know that?" Before Harry could respond, she was following her mother, long red hair swinging behind her with every step.

Harry groaned and sat down, his head spinning. He was now even more conflicted than he had been before. Staring idly into the distance, he entwined his fingers and placed them upon his forehead. Only a few days ago, Harry had fully believed that with Voldemort gone, his problems would be solved.

How very wrong he was.

Nearly a week later, Harry settled in to the familiar chair in the corner of Room 394. Despite growing pleas to stay at the Burrow, he had opted to stay at Saint Mungo's with Hermione. As much as Harry loved the Burrow, he didn't think he could bear to be there without Fred- not to mention the awkwardness that had settled between him and Ginny.

Besides, the way he saw it, both he and Hermione were homeless orphans now- the least they could do was be there for each other. Secretly, Harry couldn't help but hope that somehow his continued presence would cause Hermione to suddenly become well. But in direct opposition to what Healer Akker had said, Hermione wasn't getting any better. Although Amber Riverton had returned several times, she had very little new to say. Or maybe it was that she had very little to say to Harry. He had caught her leaving Hermione's room on the rare occasion that he left to get food or wash his face. She always looked skittish or embarrassed, almost afraid to see him. One day he had managed to corner her in the corridor.

"Mr. Potter," she had managed. "Look, I have some work to do, so-"

"I don't believe you," Harry challenged. "Why are you avoiding me?"

"Er, it's really not my place, Mr. Potter."

Bewildered, Harry shook his head. "I don't understand- do you know something I don't?"

Amber seemed to shrink against the wall. "Nothing at all, Mr. Potter. It's really not my place."

Harry threw up his hands in the air. "What the bloody hell do you mean?!" But she had already slipped away down the hall. She hadn't returned since.

Harry yawned, then frowned at himself. He had a sinking feeling Ms. Riverton was not telling him something about Hermione and her condition. It frustrated him beyond belief- it wasn't like she could drop any more bombshells, right?

Sighing, he checked the battered watch that he had received when he was 17. It was nearly midnight, but Harry couldn't bring himself to sleep. His dreams were filled with nightmares which he awoke to find were just as real.

Standing up, Harry made his way over to Hermione's bed. Curious, he ventured to look at the silver otter pendant on her neck. Careful not to touch it, Harry leaned in, close to her neck, his hand shaking.

"Bloody-"

Harry gasped. The playful otter patronus looping in and out of the frame had been replaced by something else entirely.

A galloping silver doe.


	11. Chapter 11

Not bothering to knock, Harry shoved open the door to Amber Riverton's office of the fifth floor of the Ministry of Magic. Startled, the blonde looked up from her desk, dropping her quill in surprise.

"Something is wrong with Hermione, and you're going to tell me what right now!" Harry demanded, aiming his wand at her with anger. Shrinking, Amber put up her hands.

"Please, Mr Potter." She stood up, arms shaking. Coming out from behind the desk, she advanced slowly on him. "I know you're angry–"

"Angry?" Harry replied. "You're damn right I'm angry! There's something you've been keeping from me, and I have a right to know."

Amber sighed heavily. "It's... very complicated, Mr. Potter." She nodded. "Please, close the door."

Harry slammed the door shut behind him, Amber flinching at the noise. Not lowering his wand, he gestured to the desk. "Sit." She complied, and he sat across from her. "Alright," he ordered. "Talk."

Shuffling some papers around, Amber cleared her throat. "First, please tell me how Ms. Granger is."

"She's... She's dying," Harry choked on the words. "And there's something wrong with her necklace," he added. It seemed frivolous, now that he said it, but he had to know.

Amber nodded. "Er, yes, you noticed that." She looked at him for a long moment. "Mr Potter, is it true that your patronus takes after your father's?"

He shook his head, not understanding. "Well, yes, it's a stag, but- What the bloody hell does this have to do with Hermione?"

The woman across from him dipped her head, knowingly. "Yes, it's just as I expected," she murmured.

"WHAT is just as you expected?!" Harry yelled, frustrated. He stood up, his wand still on Amber.

Almost not reacting, Amber reached behind her desk and pulled up a dusty tome as thick as Harry's arm. She opened near to the middle, then flipped back a few page. "Ah, yes. Here it is, Mr. Potter." She shoved the book across the table. "Read this, please. It will explain what I... cannot."

Normally, Harry would have pushed the book off the table and demanded that Amber tell him what she meant. But the curiosity burned within him. Settling down in the chair again, he reached for the book and looked at the illegible type, perhaps even handwritten. Glancing at the woman in front of him, and when she nodded, almost imperceptibly, and he began to read.

THE BOND

 _'Although never proven by evidence, The Bond between wizards has been the stuff of leggend for thousands of years. The Bond is often refered to in modern tales as True Love or Soulmates. However, such a bond is incredibly complicated and occurs much more rarely than such tales would have us believe. The only historical evidence of such a Bond is written in 546 by Geranious Lopold the Magnificent. He speaks of his sister, Cartarta, and her love with a common boy:_

 _"But Cartarta was smitten, and could be convinced not by the ties of the family. Always a regulated child, the surprise was much when she began to act in a way most unlike her own person. Indeed, the common boy too, startled the town with his sudden love of learning, as Cartarta had, and she our family with her rebellion. It twas as if they had traded person ships."_

_Cartarta, it seems, had formed a Bond with her male lover, which resulted in a change in her attitude. Other speculate that along with a behavior shift between the two wizards in The Bond, a change in magical characteristics, such as the form of the patronus, may occur as well._

 _It is important to note that The Bond, while a form of deep, mutual understanding and love, is most often not present even in the most successful of relationships.'_

Harry finally looked up. "Are you suggesting–" He couldn't finish his sentence.

Amber seemed uncomfortable. "Let me ask you a few questions, Mr. Potter, if you will." She linked her hands together. "Have you noticed any changes in behavior in yourself?"

Harry thought for a moment, remembering Ron's joking that he had been acting like Hermione lately. "I... yeah, I suppose."

"And what about in Ms. Granger?"

His throat went dry. "Right before she left, she– attacked me. It's just like–"

"The girl the book mentions, I know." Amber finished for him. "Yes, there are remarkable similarities."

"Hang on," Harry said. "Hermione's patronus is an otter. That's why I gave her the necklace– but it's a doe now."

Amber sighed. "Yes, yes it is."

"The book says–"

"That a patronus may change form as well." She stared at him intently. "Have you ever experienced a patronus changing."

Harry thought of Tonks and then of Snape. "Er, yeah." He shifted in his seat. "But just because Hermione's necklace changed... that doesn't mean her true patronus changed too, does it?"

"Mr. Potter," Amber replied slowly. "I must stress to you how unusual this situation is. I cannot say for certain, but I do know that pedant has a type of power that I have never seen before. I think it is very well possible that it reflects Ms. Granger."

Harry shook his head, and studies the page in front of him with a dawning realization. "Hang on," he croaked. "You think Hermione and me are... Soulmates?"


	12. Chapter 12

**_A/N: Oh wow, you guys! This fanfic has over 10,000 views and over 100 followers! As a person who has never had more than 500 views on a story, this is incredibly amazing. I've realized that the "book" text is unreadable on some computers. I've replaced it with normal text. Hope that helps! Thanks for your support. :) Okay, back to the story._**

Amber cleared her throat. "Yes. I do believe you and Ms. Granger are– that you have formed The Bond."

There was a long moment of tense silence. Then, Harry broke out laughing. He gasped for air, clutching his sides, tears running down his face. "You..." he rasped. "You... think... we're... Soul..." He couldn't stop laughing.

Attempting to catch his breath, Harry wiped the tears from his jade-green eyes and noticed Amber staring at him intently. She frowned. "I know it's difficult to take it, Mr. Potter, but-"

"Difficult to take in?" Harry gasped. "She's my best friend, and she's brilliant, but..." He paused, breathing heavily. "I could never... think of her that way. I mean, she has a boyfriend, anyway, and besides, she's like my sister- not like other girls, not like that..." he trailed off lamely.

Amber shook her head helplessly. "I can't interpret your relationship- all I'm saying is that

the evidence says that the love shield, the behavioral change, and the necklace were caused by The Bond-perhaps the first such Bond in centuries."

"This is mental," Harry muttered darkly, his thoughts racing. _Of course I love Hermione- we're like siblings. We're best friends. But it's not-er, passion, right? It's not like that- I don't fancy her, I mean._ "Fine," he conceded slowly. "So say this, erm, Bond thing is- is real." He struggled with saying the words. "What does this have to do with waking her up?"

Amber lowered her eyes. "I... I'm afraid I don't know." She sighed sadly. "Mr. Potter, I cannot wake her up. None of us can. The only person who can wake her up is herself."

Harry shook his head. "But there must be something that the Bond or whatever can do, right?" He paused, then jokingly asked, "What about true love's kiss?"

Amber widened her eyes in confusion. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but I am unaware of this which you speak."

Harry chuckled unapologetically. "You weren't raised in the muggle world, were you?" Amber opened her mouth to answer, but he waved her off. "That was a rhetorical question."

A silence blanketed the room. Harry gazed at the navy walls, taking interest in a portrait of a young man in a dark red coat. He was smiling gallantly, his happiness apparent. It struck Harry that perhaps someone might paint a portrait of Hermione if she died. Suddenly, his throat closed on itself.

Trying to prepare himself for the worst, he tried to imagine life without her. What had he and Ron done first year before they were friends? His head ached, he couldn't remember.

 _Second year_ , he thought frantically. _We survived when she was petrified. We found the Chamber of Secrets? Didn't we?_ Harry blinked. _No, no. That's wrong._ Hermione _was the one who figured out it was a basilisk._ Hermione _realized it was using the pipes to move around. We couldn't do this without her. We never could._

He stood suddenly, nearly knocking the desk over. "I have to go," he muttered. "I– I have to go!"

Room 394 again. Harry's hand shook as it hovered over the handle.

"Hey, Harry." He turned around to see Ron behind him. The two boys stared at each other for a second.

"She isn't gonna make it, is she?" Ron said finally.

Harry shook his head. "You can't say that, Ron."

"But–"

"No. No. It won't happen. It _can't_ happen." Furiously blinking away tears, Harry turned away from his best mate.

"Harry, don't pretend I'm not upset about this! She is _my_ girlfriend!"

For some reason, Harry's stomach twisted, doing backflips. He swallowed, hard, but the feeling didn't go away. He clenched his fists and pivoted back to Ron. "I– I'm sorry." Gritting his teeth, he grimaced. "'Mione's hurt and I can't do anything about it– I can't do _anything_."

Ron tentatively put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Er– I know, Harry. We're completely helpless without her, aren't we?"

A smile flitted across Harry's face, briefly. "Completely." Pausing, Harry looked at the red-head. _I have to tell him,_ Harry thought miserably. _My god, he's going to kill me. How can I say this without making it sound like I'm not in love with his girlfriend?_ "Look, Ron," he began slowly. "There's something you have to know about Hermione–"

"Harry? Ron?" A voice queried behind them. The two boys spun around to find the source of the noise.

Not believing his eyes, Harry blinked several times, but nothing changed. Swaying before them, a bushy-haired, wide-eyed young girl stood in the opening of Room 394.

It was Hermione.


	13. Chapter 13

"Her-Hermione?" Harry breathed heavily, his heart beating loudly in his chest. He stood frozen, looking at her. _This is a dream_ , he told himself, swallowing hard.

For what felt like forever, no one moved. Ron broke the spell, flinging himself at Hermione and wrapping her into a tight hug. "You're– you're awake!" Hermione stared up at him, looking confused. To Harry's surprise, Ron placed his hands on her face and kissed her, hard. At first, Hermione was frozen in place, her body stiff and unyielding. But as the kiss deepened, she softened, wrapping her arms around Ron's neck and snogging him back. Feeling sick to his stomach, Harry turned away.

"Er... I'm going to go to get Healer Akker." He said quickly. Neither of his friends responded, fully entwined with each other.

* * *

"I'm very happy to see you awake, Ms. Granger." Joseph Akker had conjured two extra chairs for Ron and Harry but demanded that Hermione get back in bed, despite her protests.

She shook her head. "I feel fine, Mr. Akker. But I don't understand– what happened to me?" She looked expectantly at Ron, who frowned, and then at Harry, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Healer Akker cleared his throat. "Er– why don't you tell me what you remember, Ms. Granger."

Hermione blinked, slowly. "It's all sort of... blurry, actually." She looked up at the ceiling, her fingers intertwined. "I was going to find my parents, in Australia. I heard they had moved into a little town called Goolwa. And I– I looked them up, in a directory."

"Hang on," Ron whispered to Harry. "What's a diretorie?" Harry neglected to respond, all his attention focused on Hermione.

"... called Little Sweet Tooth. I went in, and– I dunno, something was off." Hermione crinkled her nose. "The smell, maybe– and I... heard something, behind me."

"And?" The healer prompted. "What happened next?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I'm... not sure," she confessed, finally.

Healer Akker smiled gently. "That's alright, dear." He took her hand and patted it knowingly. "These things take time."

"What things?" Hermione asked irritably.

Healer Akker took a deep breath. "We believe that you have been the receiver of a killing curse."

For a long second, nobody moved.

"That's... Not... Possible..." Hermione whispered, her eyes growing wide. "The only person who has survived the killing curse is..." Everyone in the room looked at Harry meaningfully. He felt his cheeks growing red and pretended to be extremely interested in his shoelace.

"Yes, that's what we thought too," the Healer frowned. "Apparently we were wrong." He shook his head. "Ms. Granger, do you know the concept of a Love Sheild?"

Hermione nodded quickly. "A love shield is a powerful branch of ancient wandless magic that is believed to require a life sacrifice, which creates a shield around the protected." She looked over at Harry before continuing. "It is also thought to be the only protection against the killing curse."

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered. "10 points to Gryffindor." Harry snickered, until he saw Hermione's furious face boring down on him. Immediately, he and Ron stopped laughing and tried to look as innocent as possible, which was difficult because she looked uncannily like Professor McGonagall when angry.

The Healer did not seem to understand the reference, but he continued anyway. "That is... remarkably accurate, Ms. Granger. Now, you must understand that–"

"My parents," Hermione gasped. "My parents died for me, didn't they?"

There was a silence and Hermione looked desperately around at the three faces in front of her.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione," Harry grimaced. "They're gone."

Immediately, Hermione's eyes filled with tears. She closed her eyes tightly, clutching herself and rocking back and forth. "No," she whispered. "Please, please no." Tears rolling down her cheeks, she began to gasp, her breath coming in short spurts. Harry's stomach twisted painfully at the sight, willing himself to find something to say, but he was frozen in place. Fortunately, Healer Akker jumped to his feet and pulled a small blue vial from his robe pocket. He swiftly approached Hermione and poured the contents of the bottle down her throat. Almost immediately, she became stiff, and then went limp.

Harry rose, his legs shaking. "What did you give to her? Will she be okay?"

"Calm down, Mr. Potter," The Healer responded, glancing at him. "It was a simple calming draught." He looked mournfully down at the girl, then spoke again. "It should wear off in an hour or two. I would like to speak with her more, but until she wakes, she should be left alone." Ron nodded painfully and shuffled towards the door, but Harry sank back into his chair. Healer Akker cleared his throat loudly. "You too, Mr. Potter."

"But–" Harry protested. _I'm not going to abandon her,_ he thought fiercely to himself. _I'm never going to abandon her, not like–_ he paused in his own thoughts, shaking his head, and ruefully exited the room.

Outside, the Healer pulled Harry aside as Ron wandered down the halls, probably looking for food to distract himself with. Harry made to follow him, but Healer Akker gripped his arm before pulling him into a side hallway.

"Mr. Potter," The man said in a low voice. "I understand you've been to see Ms. Riverton."

Harry nodded slowly. "Yeah, I went to see her this morning. She told me–" he swallowed hard, turning the words around in his brain. "She told me she thought Hermione and I– might have some kind of–er, bond."

The Healer sighed. "I suspected as much. Mr. Potter, it is my understanding that Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger are engaged in a relationship?"

"Er, well, yeah, I suppose. I mean, yeah, they are." His mind flickered back to them embracing in the hallway, and quickly dismissed the thought. "Why?"

Healer Akker shook his head. "When Ms. Granger wakes, she will want to understand the whole story. Someone will have to tell her that it was you, and not her parents, who shielded her from the killing curse."

Harry's heart began to beat loudly in his chest, his throat closing at the thought of telling Ron and Hermione the truth. "Do– do I have to? I mean, can't we just let her believe that it was her parents?"

The Healer frowned. "I cannot condone lying to a patient, Mr. Potter." He paused. "And something tells me Ms. Granger would find out anyway."

 _He's right,_ Harry realised bitterly. _Hermione's far too clever to believe that for very long_. "I don't know how to tell her that... she's theoretically my soulmate." He admitted to the older man. "I mean, she's my best friend, and, I love her, but I'm not– we're not– it's not like that," he explained lamely.

Healer Akker shrugged, then placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm a healer, Mr. Potter, not a– oh, what to muggles say?– a terapist?" He patted Harry like a small dog and strode off down the corridor.

Harry leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. His mind felt clouded. He sighed heavily, trying not to think.

" _You_ cast the love shield over Hermione?" Harry forced his eyes open, only to see an furious redhead glowering in front of him.

"Ron?" Harry's heart plummeted. "You heard that?"

Ron advanced a few steps, his blue eyes dangerously dark. "Yeah, I heard that. When were you planning on telling me you're in love with my girlfriend?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm not in love with Hermione!"

Ron clenched his fists. "Like hell you aren't! You just go for everything you want, don't you, Harry? Even when it's your best mate's girlfriend?!"

Harry tensed his muscles, his frustration mounting. "I've told you, Ron, and I will tell you again! I. Am. Not. In. Love. With. Your. Girlfriend!"

Ron turned as red as his hair, his breath hot on Harry's neck. "Oh, yeah?"

Harry shoved Ron is the chest and he stumbled back a few feet. "Yeah!"

"All she talks about is you, you know," Ron said in a low voice. "She trusts you."

Unable to stop himself, Harry blurted, "Well, maybe she would trust you if you hadn't abandoned us when it got hard!"

Ron's fist came out of nowhere, giving Harry no time to dodge the blow. His sight blackened around the edges as he fell back against the wall. His eyes swum with tears of pain and he clutched the left side of his face.

"Get out," Ron growled. "Get out. You have no right to be here. Get out of here and don't come back."

"I'm not going," Harry spat back. "Unlike you, I don't leave people I care about!"

Ron swung his fist again, but Harry expected it this time and dodged out of the way just in time.

"I'm not going to fight you," Harry said, feeling his nose dripping with blood as he sidestepped another blow. Ron grunted loudly fist flew at Harry a fourth time, this time hitting his mark and sending Harry to the floor. He tasted the metallic blood on his split lips as he attempted to push himself to his feet. Before he could stand, Ron placed a well-aimed kick to his ribs, and Harry collapsed again, his chest throbbing.

"You're mental," Harry gasped.

Ron crouched next to him. "You have _everything_ , Harry," he said in almost a sad voice. " _Everything_. But you can't have her. Not now, and not ever."

Despite his quickly swelling eyes, Harry saw Ron stride away.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: So I've been getting some backlash on the last chapter from both sides of the aisle. Some people feel that Ron was being unreasonable and stupid, and some people feel like Harry was being mean for no reason and that this is turning into a "Ron-bashing" story. I would just like to say a few things about that. The first is that this is written from Harry's point of view, and I in no way believe that Harry is always right and does the right thing. The second is that yes, this is a fan fiction, so I have taken some liberties with the characters we all know and love. However, I am doing my very best to stay canon at least personality wise. The third thing is that I do not want this to be a "Ron-bashing" fic. Actually, Ron is one of my favorite characters. However, and I go back to my first point, this is a story written from Harry's perspective. Just like the books, Harry has views on other characters and actions that I may not agree with, or may be just straight up wrong. I am a big believer in every character having some good and bad in them, but Harry tends to see people in a very black and white light. I am trying to portray this in the last chapter- I think both Ron and Harry made mistakes in what they said or how they judged each other. Harry should not have said Ron abandoned them, and Ron should have believed Harry when he said he wasn't in love with Hermione. But they are both flawed characters so neither made the correct choice. So, in a way, I am glad people have differing opinions, because that says to me that both sides of the argument have merit. Anyway, if you have a problem with the story, feel free to PM me. I really like hearing your feedback, good and bad! I will say I prefer that if you dislike the story for your feedback to be constructive instead of just name-calling and/or yelling. This way I can hopefully make the story better and use your criticism to do so. Thanks you guys!**

 **Now back to the story!**

"You're going to have to tell me who did this to you sooner or later, you know," Healer Gwynlym told Harry sternly.

"Ranintadoor," Harry mumbled as she dabbed his face with a warm washcloth.

"A door?" the woman rolled her dark brown eyes. "Some door, Mr. Potter."

"'mfine" he insisted.

"You will be," the healer told him grimly. "Once this salve sets in a few minutes." She removed the cloth and studied Harry closely. "I ought to tell you that Miss Granger had woken up."

Harry sat up so quickly his head spun. "She's awake? I have to go see her, please."

The older women put two hands on his chest and forced him back on the bed. "Not yet, young man. Your friend has been in a coma for nearly two weeks. She can wait five more minutes." She smiled at him kindly, her frown lines crinkling.

Harry sighed and rested his throbbing head against the soft pillow. Although his black eye and cut lip were healing fast, Harry could not help but feel hurt in another way entirely. He closed his eyes and replayed the scene over and over again in his head. What was it Ron had said?

" _You have_ everything _, Harry."_

Ron just didn't understand. Even after seven years of friendship, he couldn't recognize that what Harry wanted, more than anything in the world, was to be exactly like Ron. _I didn't ask to be the chosen one_ , Harry thought bitterly. _I didn't ask to have to fight Voldemort all the time. I didn't ask to be a bloody orphan_.

"You're ready to go now, Mr. Potter," Healer Gwynlym interrupted his train of thought.

Harry shook himself and quickly stood. "Er, thanks–"

The healer smiled. "Claudia, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, Claudia." Not wanting to waste a second more in the Short Term Care Unit, Harry strode as fast as he could to Room 394. Anxious to see Hermione, hopefully without Ron there, he sped up the stairs. Taking three steps at a time, he bumped into a girl with long red hair and sent her flying.

"Er, sorry," Harry apologized quickly, helping the girl to her feet. "I wasn't watching where–" he stopped. "Ginny," Harry breathed.

"Hey, Harry," Ginny said in an even tone. "I was just saying hello to Hermione."

"How is she?" Harry asked.

Ginny laughed, a melodic sound that Harry adored when they were dating. "She's fine. She somehow got her hands on a book."

Harry grinned. "Better not disturb her, then. She might hit me with it."

Ginny smiled. "We should talk, Harry," she said.

Harry's stomach twisted dangerously. _I knew this was coming_ , he groaned to himself. _What is it with girls and always wanting to talk about feelings?!_

"Er, yeah."

Ginny sat down on the stone steps and motioned for Harry to sit beside her. "There's something I've been wanting to ask you, Harry," she said, after a moment. "But you have to promise to be honest."

Harry looked at her, confused. "Erm, alright."

She took a deep breath. "Why did you let Hermione come on the Horcrux hunt with you?"

Harry blinked several times, taken aback. "Sorry, what?"

"Why did you let Hermione go with you and not me?" she repeated, a little more forcefully.

Harry paused. "She... insisted."

"I insisted too, Harry," Ginny reminded him.

Harry shook his head. "It was... different." He smiled. "Besides, I wouldn't have lasted two days without her."

Ginny did not seem to find this funny. She exhaled, then turned to Harry. "I thought you might say that." She took his cold hand in her warm one. "Maybe this is stupid, Harry, but I can't wait for you anymore."

Harry froze. "I–"

"No, don't say anything. This... this is hard enough to do as it is." Ginny took a long breath. "I really like you– I like how brave you are, even when you're really thick." She grinned, a little forlornly. "But things have changed since the war. _You've_ changed. _I've_ changed. And... keep hoping– I think you keep hoping– that things will go back to the way things were."

Harry nodded. _She knows me so well,_ he thought. _Maybe better than I know myself._

"But they're not going to, are they?"

Harry paused, unsure what to say. "No, they're not," he said finally.

"Okay," Ginny blinked wearily. "Then I guess the next question is whether this is going to work out."

It was a blunt, Ginny sort of thing to say. Still, Harry was taken aback.

"You're breaking up with me," Harry croaked. It wasn't a question.

"Am I?" Ginny said, looking at him. Harry shifted uncomfortably. She shook her head. "Kiss me."

"What?" Harry asked incredulously.

Ginny pulled Harry closer to her until their her nose was against his, until their eyes met, until their lips touched. And then they were kissing. His hands wrapped around his neck, bringing her next to him, their bodies touching. Her fingers ran through his hair.

 _I needed this,_ Harry thought to himself. _I never knew lips could be so soft... I wonder what it would be like kissing Hermione lips?_

And suddenly, the girl he was kissing was no longer the youngest Weasley, but the brown-eyed, brightest witch of her age. Red hair was replaced by bushy tangled chocolate locks. It was Hermione's body against his own, pressing up to him, _wanting_ him.

 _This is wrong_ , Harry realized suddenly. He opened his eyes, pulling away from Ginny with almost cat-like reflexes.

"You were right the first time," Harry muttered. "We should break up." He stood quickly, feeling dizzy. "I'm– sorry."

A single tear ran down Ginny's face, but she wiped it away so fast Harry wasn't sure it had been there in the first place. "I know, Harry. And so am I." She stood too, glanced at him, then turned and walked away down the steps.

She didn't look back.


	15. Chapter 15

Ginny had been wrong. Hermione had not one but three books piled on the bed in front of her. The fourth she was flipping through dismissively when Harry knocked quietly at the door.

"Harry!" Hermione said, shutting Potions for the Practical and smiling brightly at him.

"Might I join you?" Harry asked cautiously, eyeing the large stack of pages in front of her.

"Of course," she nodded, gesturing to the chair next to her. "Honestly, the books they have here are so old they're practically fiction!"

Harry grinned at her, plopping down in the chair and nodding as if he understood.

She frowned. "Anyway, I suppose it's good to get my mind off of– well, things." She laid her head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. "I just can't believe–" Hermione's voice cracked and she did not finish the sentence. Blinking furiously, she turned her attention to her best friend. "Please tell me you've got something to distract me with."

Harry felt the smile fading from his face. He could feel Hermione's brown eyes burning into his skull as he focused on the floor. He sighed heavily. "Er, yeah, I do have something that I should– that you should– that you need to know."

"Alright..." Hermione responded slowly. "Tell me."

So he did. He told her everything, often tripping over his own words. He began with the love shield, and then worked his way to Soul Bonds. He tried to keep calm, but his voice cracked several times. Keep talking, he told himself. Just... keep... talking...

When he finished, there was a long silence. Not daring to look up to see Hermione's reaction, Harry's stomach clenched terribly. He honestly could not predict how his best friend might react.

She laughed.

Harry's head snapped up, not believing his own ears. Hermione was doubled over, giggling and holding herself. Harry stared at her. Has she gone mad? He wondered, worried.

"They told you all this..." Hermione gasped. "And you believed them?"

Harry suddenly felt incredibly dumb. "Er, well, they said–"

She shook her head, curls flying. "Harry, did you listen at all in History of Magic?" Hermione looked at him sympathetically. "Soul-bonds, true love, whatever you want to call it– it's all myth. It's just nonsense."

Harry frowned. "But–"

"Of course," Hermione continued, as if she hadn't heard him. "It's never been proven wrong either, but just the theory– it defeats Britett's Law in more way than one–"

"Sorry, whose laws?" Harry asked, hoping she would slow down.

"Britett's law," She said. "It's a bit complicated, but it states that magic can't control any person's fate. It can't determine who you love, or what you do." Hermione ran a hand through her hair, absently. Harry could not help but focus on it. Hermione has really nice hands, he thought to himself. I've never noticed that before.

"...Hardly matters because you– oh, Harry!– you must have been miserable keeping this all to yourself." Hermione climbed out of bed and walked over to where Harry was sitting, his head in his hands. She sat on the edge of the chair and placed her head on his.

"I dunno, Hermione," Harry whispered hoarsely. "I don't want to ruin our friendship but– how else could you have survived?"

She turned his head toward her, one stern hand under his chin. The other lingered over his forehead and then, briefly, his scar. "Harry, you must listen to me. We're best friends, and of course we love each other. And when you walked into that forest– the thick idiot that you are– of course you went there for me." She paused, staring into his emerald eyes. "But you also went there for Ron, Luna, Neville, Professor McGonagall, and Ginny."

Harry's stomach flip-flopped at the mention of Ginny. "I guess that's right."

"Of course it's right! You love me Harry, like I love you, but you're not in love with me," She smiled at him. Hermione continued to talk, but Harry's head was still swimming. Did she just say that she loves me? He shook his head.

"So you don't believe it? Any of it?" Harry queried.

Hermione frowned. "Harry, I don't know what to believe. As far as anyone knows, we're the only two people to have ever survived the Killing Curse. It's impossible to really say what happened." She bit her lip. "But no, I don't believe this nonsense that we're Soulmates or whatever this Ministry woman told you."

Harry groaned. "Perfect. So Ron hates me for absolutely no reason."

"Ronald hates you because he's a jealous git!" Hermione interjected forcefully. Harry raised his dark eyebrows in surprise. She stood and began straightening the books on the bed, realigning them alphabetically. Harry couldn't help but grin at her apparent nervousness. He stood up too, walking behind her.

"Something happen?" he asked quietly. "You two bicker again?"

Hermione slammed Questions to Merlin down on the bed. She spun around to face him. Harry was struck by how close they were– he could feel her breathing on his neck.

"Of course we fought!" Hermione cried. "That's all we ever do."

Harry frowned. "But you always make up," he reminded her. "And that's why your relationship is so strong– you forgive each other."

Hermione blinked, her eyes watering. "But do we? I mean, I'm still angry at him for telling me that my cat ate his rat!"

Harry smirked. "Merlin, Hermione, that was years ago!"

"Oh, but he never apologizes, Harry!" She said desperately.

"Yeah, he does," Harry replied. "He just doesn't always, well, say it out loud."

Hermione smiled weakly. "You are such a Gryffindor, Harry, do you know that?" She gazed at him. "You're defending someone who beat you senseless."

Harry looked away. "Well," he told her slowly. "I gave him more than enough reason." Remembering what he had said to Ron, Harry felt his guilt multiply exponentially.

"Well, anyway, Harry," Hermione pulled his attention back to earth. "Thank you. For saving my life, I mean."

Despite his guilt about his (now meaningless) fight with his best mate, Harry couldn't help but smile at the bushy-haired witch in front of him. "I was just returning the favor, I guess," he said nonchalantly.

"What favor?"

"Oh, you know. That one time you saved me first year– oh, can't forget second year, that was fun– and then of course third year, you saved my life again with that Werewolf call– and I nearly forgot fourth year, when you were the only one who believed me–" Hermione began to laugh. She threw her arms around him with such force Harry stumbled backwards a few steps before returning the embrace fiercely.

And for the first time in a long time, everything felt perfect.


	16. Chapter 16

_Dear Hermione,_

 _Mum's decided not to have a funeral for Fred._

 _Too much for George, I guess. Maybe too much for all of us._

 _Anyway, I'm happy you're feeling better. I know the Healer said you could go home today or tomorrow, but it's kind of crazy around here. And Ginny's sort of on a rampage– won't talk to any of us and keeps stomping up the house._

 _Maybe you could stay in St. Mungo's a few more days?_

 _Love,_

 _Ron_

"Do you see?" Hermione snapped after Harry finished reading the short letter. "No apology!"

Harry shook his head. "I still don't know what you fought about," he reminded her.

"It doesn't matter, Harry," Hermione waved her wand at her luggage. "Pack!" The carefully folded clothes flew into the air, wriggled, and then fell in a mess on the bed.

"'Mione," Harry told her gently. "No magic for a few days."

Hermione's threw her hands into the air in frustration. "I know, I know, but it was just a small–" she froze suddenly, mid-sentence. "Harry," she whispered. "You don't think– I haven't lost it forever, have I?"

Harry blinked at her. "You're the brightest witch I've ever met!"

"Was," Hermione lamented. "Oh, Merlin, I can't go back!"

"Back?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Back... back to when... I... I was a freak!" She fell back on the bed, holding her face in her hands.

Harry sighed, and put down Ron's letter. He perched on the edge of Hermione's bed and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You aren't a freak, Hermione."

She shook her head. "But I was! Before I got my Hogwarts letter, I was the biggest freak in Great Britain!"

It struck Harry that he had never heard much about Hermione's childhood. He had no idea who she had been before Hogwarts, except for that her parents were dentists.

"You obviously never met me, then," he muttered.

"I highly doubt it could be worse," Hermione mumbled through her hands.

"I set a python on my cousin!" Harry reminded her.

"I made a girl I hated spend all day barking like a dog," Hermione shot back. Harry raised both of his eyebrows.

"You– you did what?"

Hermione forced a small smile. "See? I told you I was worse." She bit her lip. "I dare say she was _barking_ mad."

Harry groaned. "Er, funny, 'Mione. Incredibly funny."

She giggled, then, almost immediately, regained her composure. "Well," Hermione said, crisply folding Ron's letter. "I suppose I'll have to stay with you then, won't I?"

He took a small step back. "What?"

Hermione folded a pair of orange socks and stacked them neatly on top of her luggage. "I can't stay with Ron," she told him. With a _click_ , the large luggage snapped shut and Hermione stood, hoisting it off the bed. "And Merlin knows I'm not staying here." She walked past Harry, towards the door, then stomped her foot, frustrated. "Oh, I can't apparate– we'll have to use Floo powder– I do hope St. Mungo's is _connected_ to the Floo network, otherwise–"

"Hang on," Harry interrupted. "You want to stay with me?"

She turned towards him quickly. "Well, of course I do!" She paused. "That is, if you'll, allow it..."

For some reason, the idea of Hermione staying with him made Harry feel both excited and uncomfortable. _What would Ron_ think? He worried. _Then again, he made it pretty clear he doesn't want Hermione at the Burrow– and she has nowhere to go!_ There was a moment of silence between the two friends while Harry weighed his options.

"Of course you can stay with me," He said finally, and Hermione let out a breath of relief.

"Oh, you're a lifesaver, Harry, honestly!" She exclaimed.

Harry shuffled his feet and resisted the urge to withdraw his offer. "'Course, Mione," he mumbled awkwardly. _This is just like when you were on the run,_ Harry reminded himself furiously. _Yeah. Exactly like that. Only..._

"The only problem is that I haven't been back to Grimmauld Place since– well, not for a while."

"It can't be much worse than the Slytherin Common Rooms," Hermione said comfortingly. "A little wandwork and I'm sure–"

"No magic for you!" Harry reminded her sternly.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, dad."

There was a silence as both teenagers realized the gravity of the phrase. Neither of them would say those words again without it being some sort of joke.

"Let's go, Hermione," Harry murmured, his voice low. She nodded, her head down, and they took each other's hands.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Hi guys! Hope you are enjoying the story! I just wanted to warn you that swearing is used in this chapter. I try not to use it but I felt like it was appropriate in this situation. It's just once and hopefully I won't be using it ever again. Thanks for reading!**

"I hate Floo powder," Harry coughed, waving his hand in front of his face as he stumbled out of Grimmauld Place's fireplace.

"Learn to drive, then," Hermione said, looking incredibly poised despite having soot on her nose. She unwrapped her scarf from her neck and hung it on an ornate lamp.

"Er, you've got something–" Harry gestured to Hermione's face.

"Hm?"

Harry carefully reached his left hand and brushed the black dust gently off his best friend's face. His stomach flipped as his hand made contact with Hermione nose. He lingered there for a few seconds– a few seconds too long.

"Is–" Hermione's voice cracked and she bit her lip. "Is it gone?"

"Yeah," Harry breathed. "You have dimples, did y'know that?"

Hermione took a large step back. "Uh– uh-huh," She muttered.

Realizing he had spoken aloud, Harry felt his stomach clench. He opened his mouth to explain himself, but could find no words.

"Master Potter?" A low voice creaked behind him.

Both teens spun to face a small house-elf with a large, bulbous nose.

"Kreacher?" Hermione gasped, kneeling to meet him. "I thought you were at Hogwarts!"

The elf ignored her and focused on Harry. "Will master be staying at Grimmauld Place?"

Harry nodded slowly. "Yes. For a few days, I think, Kreacher."

Kreacher bowed his head dutifully. "I will prepare supper and a room."

"Oh, thank you, Kreacher!" Hermione flung her arms around the small elf. Harry noticed him stiffen and open his mouth the protests.

"Kreacher will not be tou–"

"Kreacher!" Harry warned, and elf became silent and allowed the girl to embrace him. He scowled at Harry to show his displeasure and fled the room as soon as Hermione loosened her embrace.

"I think he's starting to like you," Harry teased as Hermione watched him go. She turned to him with a ferocious glare, then grabbed her luggage with one hand and went into the hall. Harry mentally facepalmed and followed her. "I'm sorry!" He called out lamely.

Hermione spun to face him, her eyes wild. "What is your problem?!" She marched toward Harry and he took a step back. "Are you trying to make this difficult, Harry? Are you trying to make this awkward?" Dropping her luggage, she came close to him, so close he could feel her angry breathe on his chest.

"No," he whispered.

"Yes," Hermione's voiced cracked. "Yes you are!" She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "You can't honestly believe in this Soulmate nonsense."

Harry clenched his fists. "You don't?" He asked, leaning towards her.

Hermione shook her head, chocolate curls flying. "Brittet's laws..." she began indignantly.

"Fuck Brittet's laws!" Harry shouted, surprised at his own intensity. "Look me in the eyes, 'Mione, and tell me there's not anything there."

She blinked and averted her gaze. "I knew this was a bad idea," she murmured. "I've forgotten–"

"Forgotten what?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I've forgotten that you are a 17 year old boy," she told him.

"What does that have to do with anything?!" Harry bellowed angrily.

She looked at him crossly. "Oh, Harry." She sighed. "Sometimes, when you're a boy– sometimes, your head–" she flushed a deep pink. "Your head isn't exactly in– your head." She glanced downwards and Harry suddenly understood what she was alluding to. He felt himself turning red with embarrassment.

"Forget I said anything," Harry muttered, turning away from Hermione, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder but he jerked away from her touch.

"I'm going to see if Kreacher's got a room ready," Harry said in a low voice.

* * *

 _There was so much darkness that he could not see himself, could not even tell if he was really there. He stumbled, clutching at imaginary walls, calling out but hearing nothing, not even his own voice._

 _Suddenly, through the darkness, even blacker against the blackness, he saw him mother, twirling and laughing. The laughter sounded like rain across the roof, and he realized she was not laughing, but crying. She stared at him as tears rolled down her dress and pooled on an invisible floor. She reached for him, but her arms turned to rubber, and she faded into the black, calling his name._

 _"Mum!" he called out, but there was no sound, only an echoing darkness._

Harry woke with a start, sweating profusely. Leaning against the headboard, he closed his eyes and shook the dream away. His breath was short and shallow and he absently reached toward his forehead to touch his scar.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice snaked out from the darkness.

Harry shot up so fast that banged his head against the headboard, his eyes flying open.

"I didn't mean to scare you," Hermione whispered.

"You didn't," Harry said, rubbing his head. "Er, bad dream."

"I know," Hermione murmured, her voice getting closer to him. "You were yelling," she explained. Harry drew his wand from his pocket and hastily lit the lamp beside his bed. The two teens blinked in the yellow light.

"You– you didn't have to come in," Harry said, grabbing his glasses and shoving them on his face. Hermione's concerned face came into sharp focus– her worried eyes, her patient smile, her tousled hazel hair.

"I know," She said, perching at the end of his bed. "I couldn't sleep either."

Harry swung his feet over the side of the bed and they sat together, in silence.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said suddenly, turning to him. "About earlier."

"Me, too." Harry admitted.

"What are we doing, Harry?" she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Harry shook his head and took her hand, admiring how their her palm fit perfectly into his. "I dunno, Hermione." he sighed heavily.

"I dunno."


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Extra long chapter for you guys. I hope you enjoy it. :)

When Harry woke, he could tell it was late morning, maybe even early afternoon. His breath came easily to him as he basked in the warm yellow light.

I can't remember that last time I slept this well, Harry thought, yawning to himself. No part of his body ached, and his head was clear and focused. He reached for his glasses, the world swimming into view as he turn over.

It was hard not to let out a gasp of shock when he realized Hermione was curled up next to him. Much like Crookshanks, she was rolled into a tight ball, her hand resting under her cheek. Her face posed a slight smile, just the tips of her lips upturned.

Once he got over the scare of seeing his best friend sharing his bed, Harry studied the brown-haired witch. The curls framed a fuzzy halo around her heart-shaped face. Unlike when Hermione was lying in the hospital bed, now her cheeks were rosy, and even in sleep, she looked poised and yet determined. It was something Harry was sure only Hermione could pull off.

As if on cue, Hermione's hazel eyes blinked open, and she yawned and rolled her head back. "Hi, Harry," she whispered, propping herself up on one arm.

"Hey," he whispered back.

They were silent for a few moments as they took each other in.

"Thanks for letting me crash here," Hermione said finally. "This house gives me the creeps."

Harry nodded. His eyes drifted to Hermione's v-neck red t-shirt. It had just a bit of white lace at the top, and only gave a tiny hint to what lay below the fabric.

"Sure," he managed, finally meeting her eyes. "Honestly it's felt a little weird sleeping all alone since–"

"The horcrux hunt," Hermione finished for him. She sighed, pushing the covers off. "I know." Turning away from Harry, she stood up from the large bed and straightened her striped pajama bottoms. "I'm going to make some breakfast." She glanced out the window. "Well, lunch, maybe."

"Kreacher can do it!" Harry called after her, although he knew it was pointless. Clambering out of bed, Harry pulled a green sweater over his white t-shirt and ran a few fingers through his messy black hair. Grabbing his wand, Harry left the spacious room and began to tiptoe down the creaky stairs, skipping the third from bottom.

As he rounded the corner passing the thankfully sleeping portrait of Sirius' mother, Harry took a deep whiff of hashbrowns and bacon and grinned as he entered the kitchen. Hermione was standing in the centre of the room, directing mixing bowls and cooking pots with her wand. Harry ducked as 3 eggs flew over his head and cracked themselves in a large frying pan.

"This is quite the operation," he mused, sitting down at the long table.

"Kreacher kept us well-stocked," Hermione said over her shoulder.

"He must have been eating like a king," Harry replied, his stomach rumbling.

Hermione sighed, directing the now fried eggs to the table, along with a platter of bacon and a bowl of fruit. She sat down, on the other side of the table from Harry. Raising her glass of pumpkin juice, Hermione leaned forward and said, "Cheers, Mr. Potter."

Harry chuckled, and raised his own glass. "And to you, Miss. Granger."

After that they ate in silence. Harry chewed and swallowed so quickly he barely tasted the food. Every few seconds he would steal a glance at the girl across from him. Normally perceptive Hermione seemed to be completely lost in thought, her brown eyes furrowed in deliberation.

"Hermione," Harry began slowly, his thoughts whirling. "There's something I don't understand."

Predictably, her head jerked to attention, as if she could smell the possibility of showing her knowledge.

"So, Brigets Law–"

"Oh, Harry, not this again–"

"– how does it work with prophecies and stuff? I mean, wasn't the whole thing with Voldemort fate– the whole "Chosen One" thing– wasn't that fate?"

Hermione put her fork down with resignation. "First off," she explained. "It's Brittet's Law, not Briget's Law. And, secondly, we've been over this before. Voldemort choose you, Harry. That prophecy didn't have to come true– he made it happen."

"But I beat him," Harry said, confused.

Hermione reached her hand across the table and touched his, almost sympathetically. It was as if someone had sent electricity up Harry's arm, and he withdrew it suddenly.

"Of course you did," she said, looking a little hurt. "But that was you, Harry. Not some prophecy."

Harry shook his head. "I'm not sure I believe that," he muttered.

"Why, Harry?" Hermione asked, her voice low.

Harry almost snorted. "That's a loaded question," he replied.

"One you didn't answer," she shot back.

He stood suddenly, shaking the table. "I'm going to get dressed," he grunted.

* * *

Upstairs, the shower squeaked before sending out a few drips of water. Not bothering to fix it, Harry undressed and stepped under the lukewarm stream. His mind wandered to Hermione as he absently ran a bar of soap over himself.

This is not happening, he told himself, closing his eyes. I just miss Ginny. But, no, thinking about Ginny hurt. Thinking about Hermione, on the other hand...

Harry leaned against the shower wall and groaned, letting his mind wander despite his misgivings.

 _The yellow shower curtain was brushed aside by Hermione's delicate hands._

 _"Hey," she said seductively. She was wearing a flimsy pink robe that was incredibly see-through. Harry opened his mouth to respond, but her hand quieted him. Silently, without breaking eye contact, she shed the gossamer fabric and it pooled around her on the floor._

 _Harry's heart began to pound in his chest, willing himself not to look at Hermione's body as she came closer to him._

 _"I want you, Harry," She whispered huskily in his ear. "Now."_

 _And then his lips were against hers, and they were kissing. Hesitant at first, Harry let Hermione's mouth lead him into a passionate snog. She smelled like parchment and treacle tart and flowers. And he was holding her, his hands on her body, her hands in his hair, and Merlin, he never knew he could feel like this. It was as if she hand turned to soft putty in his hands, his for the touching, the feeling, the taking. She threw her head back and moaned and he kissed down her neck, her perfect collar bone, the tops of her breasts..._

"Harry?"

Harry jerked out of his fantasy to the sound of real Hermione's voice. He shut off the shower, stumbling over his own feet to reach his towel.

"Harry, would you please come down here?"

The way Hermione's voice sounded– worried, maybe even frightened– made Harry summon his clothes with magic and rush to put them on.

"I'm coming," he called down the stairs, pulling a navy t-shirt over his wet black hair. He slammed the door to the bathroom shut, then, for some reason, opened it again, and attempted to slick his hair back in the mirror. But despite his best efforts, it still looked messy. Harry groaned, his mind racing.

"HARRY?" The call from Hermione decided it for him, and he sprinted towards the stairs, taking them two steps at a time.

"Is everything okay?!" He asked, panting as he rounded the corner into the living room.

Hermione was standing, looking a little shaken, but not hurt. "Harry," she said slowly. "We've got a– a visiter."

Harry shook his head, not understanding. The teenage witch gestured helplessly to her right, and Harry glanced that way, then nearly blanched.

It was Ron.

* * *

Hermione set the tea on the coffee table in between the two boys. Ron was rubbing his hands together nervously and Harry was staring stonily at his feet.

"Well," Hermione began, still standing up. "We're all here..."

"You're staying at his house?" Ron interrupted angrily.

"Excuse me," Hermione objected. "You said I couldn't stay at the Burrow!"

"Er," Harry began.

"You didn't have to stay with him!" Ron blurted, getting to his feet, his fists clenched.

Harry tried again. "Hey–"

Hermione exploded. "Well, I didn't exactly have a ton of options, did I? Considering that oh, I dunno, my parents are dead?"

There was a heavy silence as Hermione's words settled over the trio.

"Okay," Harry said, finally. He joined the other two in standing. "Maybe... maybe we should all sit down."

Ron complied, but Hermione stayed standing, hunched at the shoulders, her face unreadable. "'Mione," Harry urged quietly. He gently touched her shoulder. "Let's sit down, okay? Let's just sit down." Under his hands, she softened noticeably. Harry couldn't help but glance at her chest and was suddenly reminded of his shower fantasy.

 _It was as if she hand turned to soft putty in his hands, his for the touching, the feeling, the taking._

Harry swallowed hard, trying hard to ignore the burning in his chest. Hermione sighed, then turned to him, her big brown eyes matching his.

"I'm going to go... read a book," she said, quickly pulling away from the two boys.

Harry watched her leave the room. He turned to Ron, who was watching Hermione go in disbelief.

"How did you do that?" He asked, his blue eyes focused on Harry. "Calm her down?"

Harry shook his head, still not looking at Ron.

The red-head continued to talk, as if he did not notice Harry's silence. "I can't do that. She won't listen to me." He paused. "She listens to you, though."

Harry closed his eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted. "I'm sorry," he confessed. "I shouldn't have said... what I said."

"And I shouldn't have kissed Hermione," Ron replied in a low voice.

Harry's eyes shot open, and he spun towards the other boy. "What did you say?"

Ron stood, and clapped Harry on the back. "Never mind. I'm sorry too. Mates again?"

His head reeling, Harry rubbed his forehead. "Er, sure, mates again. But–"

"Good," Ron grabbed his coat from the back of the sofa. "Tell 'Mione I said goodbye, won't you?"

"Hang on," Harry reached for Ron's shoulder and pulled him away from the fireplace. "What did you say about kissing Hermione?"

Ron's blue eyes seemed to scan Harry to his very soul. "I don't think the horcrux was wrong, Harry," he replied cryptically. "I think about that every day."

And with a loud _pop!_ he was gone.

* * *

Harry found Hermione halfway through Secrets of Medieval Sorcerers in the second floor decrepit library of Grimmauld place.

"So Ron left," she said, not looking up from the thick tomb. It wasn't a question.

"He said to say goodbye," Harry explained lamely. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Hermione said evenly. "We talked before you came in." She slammed the book shut, then stood and shoved it back in a large bookshelf against the wall. "He had plenty to say." she sighed. "He's angry, of course."

Harry folded himself into a lumpy red armchair. "Well," he began slowly. "I suppose I haven't been... exactly... sensitive about this."

Hermione shook her head. "I just don't understand," she frowned. "Why is he making this so difficult?"

Harry smiled. "You know," he chuckled. "For the brightest witch of your age, you can be incredibly thick, Hermione."

She looked offended. "I am not!"

Harry ran a hand through his still wet hair, exasperated. "You know Ron has the emotional range of a– what was it you said?– a teaspoon?" He sighed. "He feels one emotion at a time. And right now, he's jealous."

Hermione snorted. "Of what? Of you?"

"No," Harry said. He paused for a moment. "Well, maybe."

Hermione bit her lip. "I've told him this whole thing is just a mistake–"

The last word resounded in Harry's chest like a canon. His patience was suddenly gone, his throat closing and his fists clenched. His heart beat so fast and loud he was sure Hermione could hear it, but he didn't care.

"Right," he echoed. "A mistake."

Hermione frowned. "Harry, you can't–"

"Don't tell me what I can't do!" Harry bellowed at her, well-aware he was probably overreacting. Hermione stood tall, but he could see the fear in her eyes. "Don't tell me what I can't do, and don't tell me what Ican't think!"

Hermione took a long deep breath. "I never thought it would be this hard," she muttered, her eyes downcast. "I thought we could make this happen. Me and Ron."

Harry could not stop himself. "Maybe it's not happening because it isn't supposed to happen," He replied, his voice cold.

"Of maybe it's not happening because you won't let it!" Hermione shot back, angrily. Her eyes filled with tears. "We did everything for you, Harry. We gave up everything. And now... Ron and I... we want to move on with our lives. We want to grow up. We want to be happy."

It was as if she had slapped him across the face. Despite Ron's occasional complaints about Harry ruining his life, Hermione had always stood by the principle that Harry wasn't holding either of them back. That his problems, no matter how large, were their problems, too.

"Is that what you are, when you're with him?" Harry asked quietly, his voice cracking. "Happy?"

There was a pregnant pause. "I–" Hermione swallowed and chewed on her lower lip. "We're going to make it work."

Harry took a step towards her, his legs shaking. "For how long?" His eyes never left her face. "How long are you going to 'make it work' for?" He took another cautious step towards her.

Hermione twirled her chocolate hair with one finger. "I don't know what you mean," she replied nervously.

"I mean," Harry continued. "When are you going to realise that maybe it just doesn't work?" Two steps closer to Hermione this time. They were just as close as they had been in his shower fantasy, their bodies very nearly touching– only this time, it was real.

"Don't do this, Harry," she pleaded, freezing under his gaze. "Please. Stop."

Feeling emboldened, Harry moved his face until it was inches away from Hermione's. "I'll stop," he breathed softly. "If you tell me you want me to."

Hermione shook her head helplessly. "I– I can't."

Harry felt his heart jump to his throat. Here was Hermione, his best friend, centimeters away from him, telling him she wasn't going to ask him to stop. That she couldn't ask him to stop. The roaring in his chest grew louder, until all he could hear was the blood rushing through his ears.

And he leaned forward, his heart racing, his eyes closed.

And he did something he should have done a long, long, time ago.

He kissed Hermione.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I've been very busy (college applications, holidays, family stuff) and also this chapter was incredibly hard to write! This is a little bit of fluff, but it was totally necessary to move the story along. Anyway, I rewrote it about seven times so I hope you like it! :)**

Somehow, it was better than he had imagined, even in his wildest fantasies. Her lips, against his, impossibly soft, incredibly perfect against his.

And, maybe even more unbelievably, Hermione was kissing him back, clasping her hands behind his neck. She opened her mouth and Harry's tongue snaked past her lips. He let out low moan, more like a growl in the back of his throat.

And for what felt both like an eternity and like no time at all, neither of them were thinking about Voldemort, or the dead, or Ginny, or Ron.

 _"I don't think the horcrux was wrong, Harry."_

The words resounded in his head, and Harry was back in the forest of Dean, with Ron, and the locket was opened and billowing before them, showing Ron's greatest fears.

' _Least loved, now, by the girl who prefers your friend... Second best, always, eternally overshadowed...'_

Harry broke the kiss suddenly, distracted by the roaring in his ears. He pushed himself away from Hermione and tried to close his eyes to block against the hissing of the horcrux. How could he have done this? Hermione was _Ron's_ girlfriend. And Ron was _Harry's_ best mate. And for Merlin's sake, _Hermione_ was his best friend too! They weren't dating, they weren't together, they weren't anything.

Harry forced his eyes open. Hermione was looking both guilty and concerned for him. She bit her lip and looked away from him, avoiding his gaze.

"I..."

There was a never ending silence. Harry cleared his throat, unsure how to begin.

"I shouldn't–"

"No, no, we–"

"Okay, we–"

"We were both–"

"Right, so–"

"–upset and, it's understandable–"

"Right."

Hermione took an audible breath, and Harry felt the flame in his chest yet again. His throat tightened and he was struck by how beautiful she seemed.

"Forget it happened," Harry muttered, tugging on his shirt.

"Probably a smart idea," she responded, her voice dull and monotone.

Still, they stood there neither one moving.

"I like you," Harry blurted, his voice shaking. "And not because of some stupid Bond."

"Harry–" Hermione began, her voice distressed.

"I like you because you're my best friend and you know me better than– hell, probably better than anyone. You're brilliant and you've saved my life more times than I can count." He couldn't seem to stop talking. "I like you because you're funny and intelligent and I know you too. I know that you hate flying and your favorite subjects are are Charms and Arithmancy and I know that you bite your lips when you're nervous and that you were nearly sorted into Ravenclaw. I know your middle name is Jean. I know you love the library more than any other room in Hogwarts. I know you love the color lilac and the smell of peppermint and cut grass and– spearmint! I know–"

"Harry," Hermione interrupted quietly. "Stop."

He shook his head furiously, his heart pounding. _Did I really just say that?_ "I–"

A light hand was placed on his shoulder. "Why– why didn't you ever tell me?" Hermione's voice was tiny, a child's whisper.

Harry's head shot up. "Tell you?"

Her hazel eyes blinked at him, the right one watering. "Tell me how you felt... about this? About me?"

Harry groaned, exasperated. He ran a few fingers through his hair. It was still damp. "Merlin, I don't know, 'Mione! You were always– you've always been– like my sister– I mean, it's never been– I mean, for a while, it's been different–" He trailed off lamely, staring at the peeling pink walls in between the mildewy, lopsided bookshelves.

"For how long?" Hermione persisted. "How long has it been... Different?"

"Er..." Harry frowned, thinking. When had this burning in his chest begun? When Hermione was attacked? No, no, it had been before that. Had it been when she has kissed Ron for the first time?

Maybe, but Harry could hardly remember how he felt in that moment. He thought back further, to the Forest of Dean. Harry remember the feeling of intense closeness with his best friend. It had felt so natural he hadn't even realized it was happening.

"When Ron left," Harry said finally. "That's when something changed."

"Harry, that was months and months ago!" Hermione chided. Her voice was so reasonable he could almost pretend they were having a normal conversation.

"I know!" Harry rubbed a hand up his face, displacing his glasses. They landed lopsided on his nose, and half of the world became blurry. Hermione's face split in half, the upper part clear and the lower a blob of brown and peach. "I guess I just didn't– realize it until–"

"Until my parents died," Hermione finished quietly, her breath catching. She looked down, her eyes tightly shut. "Until my parents were _murdered._ "

"'Mione..." Harry tried to swallow the lump in his throat but found it only growing bigger. "I shouldn't have–" But it was too late to apologize, she was crying, tears rolling down her face. Hermione took a hiccupping breath but she could not seem to stop.

"Oh, god, oh god–"

Before she could say anything else, before he could think any longer, Harry took two steps forward and was enveloping him in his lengthy arms. It felt natural, her head against his shoulder, his arms caressing her back. Hermione was leaning against him, her small frame shaking against his. Harry closed his eyes and held onto her tighter. For a few minutes, there was no sound except Hermione's small gasps.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said, attempting to pull away. Harry held onto her, not quite willing to let go. "I know you hate when girls cry." Despite the situation, Harry began to chuckle. Hermione looked at him, confused.

"I'm sorry," Harry covered his mouth. "But I was right. You _do_ know me."

She swung back, casually trapped in his arms, her face graced with the slightest smile. "Harry James Potter, when did you just become a know-it-all?"

Harry grinned back, then gently wiped the last tear away from Hermione's rosy cheeks. "I learned from the best." He looked at his best friend, her red cheeks, her bloodshot brown eyes, her curly hair– and once against was struck by the urge to kiss her.

But he didn't get the chance to– she kissed him first.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Hi readers! I hope you're having a good new year!**

 **So, based on the fantastic response to this story, I was kicking around writing another Harmony fanfiction. Different storyline entirely, and a little more– let's say,** _ **mature**_ **than this story. If you would like to read another H/Hr story by me, PM me or review this story to let me know! Also, this is the longest chapter so far, so I hope you enjoy!**

It was like nothing Harry had ever experienced, having Hermione pressed against him, kissing him. He could feel her heart beating as if in slow motion. He felt breathless, as if he had flown a thousand miles in the depths of winter, and yet he could not pull away. Their bodies entwined, his hands gripping her waist and pulling her closer, the smell of old books and flowers enveloping him. Her hair tangled around his fingers, and for those few precious seconds Harry forgot himself and the world around him. The pain, the bloodshed, the terror– it evaporated as he kissed his best friend.

Some time later, after they stood and kissed for forever and for no time at all, Hermione pulled apart from him. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were slightly parted. Harry ran a hand over his scar and for a few moments, they smiled at each other, stupidly.

"Well," Hermione said, snapping back into a business-like manner, quite convincingly. Harry grinned at her facade.

"Well?" He raised one eyebrow and studied her rosy cheeks.

She cleared her throat. "Well, that was–" Hermione paused, as if trying to find the right word. "Interesting."

Harry squinted at her. "Interesting?"

"Mm." She affirmed, not meeting his gaze.

Revelling just a little in how uncomfortable she looked, Harry took a few steps forward. "Have I rendered Miss Granger speechless?" He queried cockily.

"You give yourself... much too much credit," Hermione said quickly, taking a few steps backwards as he again came closer to her. They were heading towards the northern edge of the room, slowly, but steadily.

"Careful," Harry warned, purposefully a few seconds too late. She hit the wall behind her with a tiny yelp of surprise and whirled to face him. Drawing herself up to her full height, which only brought her head to his shoulder, she attempted to hold his steely gaze.

"Harry," she scolded, her voice shaking ever so slightly. "Stop. Please, this isn't fair."

Harry looked down, and took her considerably smaller hand in his. He leaned forward. "Okay," he breathed in her ear, well aware of the shiver that went down his spine as he did so. His throat closed a little and he forced himself to lean backwards. "Stopping."

They stood there, inches apart, not touching nor speaking, for an uncomfortably long time.

"So," Hermione said, finally breaking the silent barrier. "Dinner?"

* * *

"I'm nervous," Hermione whispered. Her hand was wrapped around Harry's so tightly it felt like his hand might fall off.

""Mione, you'll be fine" Harry said for the fourth time that hour. "Ow," he muttered under his breath, clenching his teeth.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. "I just–"

"I know," he replied. "It's okay. We're all okay."

"Miss Granger," Healer Akker appeared from the door behind them, his face broken by a wide smile. "It's good to see you looking– well, so awake."

Hermione mustered a grin. "Yes... it's good to see you as well, sir."

The healer pulled a quill and parchment out of the air where they had been hovering beside him. "Any magic this past week?" He asked, feather poised.

Almost imperceptibly, Hermione stiffened beside Harry. "Well, you see, there were a few times– just small magic, really, easy things, not–"

"Hm," Healer Akker said, his quill tip scratching furiously.

"That's her way of saying yes," Harry interjected, which earned him a glare from Hermione that could have rivaled McGonagall's.

The older man frowned at the pair of them. "Is this true?" He queried the couple.

"Yes," Hermione said quickly. She took a deep breath. "Have I gotten worse?"

"Well," Healer Akker searched her face for answers. "The tests seem normal, however I cannot condone this course of action... Your wand, Miss Granger?"

Hermione surprised Harry by handing over her wand immediately. "Why does he need that?"

Hermione glanced at him. "Wands can be a sort of connection to a witch or wizard's magical core," she whispered quickly. "Sometimes they can be examined to see if their owner is healthy."

The healer was waving his own wand over Hermione's, muttering under his breath. Briefly, both wands glowed pink.

"Alright," Healer Akker returned her wand. He clasped his arms over his chest. "It seems as though your magic has repaired itself– rather quickly. Of course, I can't say for certain, but I do know someone–"

"Miss Granger," A rather high pitched voice that Harry recognized sounded behind them. He spun around, and, indeed, it was Amber Riverton. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Amber Riverton, Ministry of Magic."

She entered the room and exchanged places with Healer Akker, who muttered something about needed to see another patient and left quickly.

Harry watched as Amber's blue eyes dipped down to Hermione's hand, clutched in his. Suddenly feeling very hot, he pulled away from her and focused on the floor.

"Well," Harry could hear the satisfaction in the older woman's voice. "I believe I do have an explanation for this, if you'll allow me."

She sat comfortably across from Harry and Hermione, crossing her long legs. Harry could not seem to control the burning in his chest, his throat closing on itself nervously. They hadn't talked about the kiss– or, rather, the several kisses they had shared the day before. Nor had they spoken about how, just that morning, Harry had again woken with Hermione by his side.

"Tell me, Miss Granger," Amber was saying. "Has anything... _Changed_ in the past few days?"

"Pardon?" Hermione replied, her back impeccably straight. Harry could feel her tensed beside him. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean."

Amber smiled lightly at her, then glanced at Harry knowingly. "I'm just asking about any... unusual happenings since you've left St. Mungo's."

Harry closed his eyes tightly, his head reeling. Hermione, as always, remained poised. "I'm not sure what relevance this has, Miss _Riverstin_."

"Rive _rton_ ," Amber shot back, her teeth clenched. "And I believe I am the expert here, Miss Granger, and therefore, according to law, I must ask you to answer the question fully."

"Yes, however, pursuant to ministry code 6.1962, a witch or wizard may only be questioned in such a manner if they are underage or convicted of a crime." Hermione paused for a moment. "Harry and I are both of age, and, to the best of my knowledge, neither of us have been convicted of any crime."

Harry was beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable as the two women glared at each other.

"Of course not," Amber conceded finally, her voice edged with anger. "You are free to go, if you wish, however, I must ask–"

"No, you must not!" Hermione shot back rather furiously. "Now, with your honourable permission, I'm going home." With a stiff nod, Hermione stood up and stalked out of the meeting room.

"That went well," Harry muttered darkly, running one hand through his untidy hair.

"I've heard Miss Granger was rather even-keeled," Amber said, shaking her head. "But perhaps that is one of your traits?"

Harry burst. "That's _enough_!" He exclaimed, standing. "You seem like a nice enough person. _Seemed_. But now you're pushing into our lives, and how we live them– this has gone too far, Amber."

"Harry," Amber visibly tried to collect herself. "You must both understand that this is the most significant magical discovery in–"

"And _you_ have to understand that we're not test subjects!" Harry answered indignantly. He sighed. "I... I have to go."

Without saying anything else, he left the room.

* * *

"Why didn't you wait for me?" Harry asked loudly, unbuttoning his heavy coat in the foyer of 12 Grimmauld Place. "I looked everywhere for you."

"I dunno," a disgruntled voice sounded from the parlor. "You seemed pretty comfortable with _Amber Rivers."_

Harry took a few cautious steps forward. "Er, what?"

"I left because I was sure that you were having quite a bit of fun without me," Hermione was saying, her voice pitched quite a bit higher than usual. As Harry rounded the corner to the front room, he first noticed the Black Family Portrait which still adorned the wall, and felt his stomach clench. Shaking his head, Harry turned to the sofa in the corner of the room where Hermione was sitting. Her feet were tucked underneath her and she seemed to be completely absorbed in book. Harry, however, could see that behind the bindings she was upset.

"Yeah, being stuck in St. Mungo's with a woman who wants to treat me like a test subject– definitely my idea of a fun time." Harry responded, plopping down across from her.

"It sure helps that she was gorgeous, doesn't it though?" Hermione said, derisively turning the page.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Sorry, what?"

She slapped the book closed. "Convenient, isn't it, that such a young, beautiful woman is the Ministry's first choice to deal with the famous Boy-Who-Lived?"

"Hang on," Harry said, the situation finally dawning on him. "Are you saying you're– jealous of her?"

"No!" Hermione objected, much too quickly to be believable. "But it's rather obvious she fancies you, isn't it?"

Harry frowned, bewildered. "So you're not jealous, but you feel it's important for me to know that she fancies me?"

She shook her head. "I thought you ought to know that whatever she's told you is probably a lie."

Harry hung his head, groaning. "Sure, Hermione," he said finally, exasperated.

"I'm not jealous, Harry!" she insisted loudly. "But don't you see she might be using you, _lying_ to you, even–"

"'Mione," he stood, a smile stretching across his face. "I think I get the idea." Harry held in a tiny laugh, his forehead crinkling. The thought of Hermione feeling jealous, about him, nonetheless, made his stomach flutter and the corners of his mouth turn upwards.

"I don't think she's very pretty," Harry remarked as he slowly regained his composure. Hermione's head jerked back up, her eyes wide.

"You're blinder than I thought, then," she muttered finally.

"Hey!" Harry shot back, feigning offense, his hand over his heart in mock pain. Hermione giggled, and the tension between then broke.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry, really, I am. But Amber Raverstin, or whatever, she's a snake, a snake, Harry." Hermione frowned at herself. "I really don't like her, Harry."

"That might be a bit of an overreac–" Harry was cut off by the hooting of an owl from the bay window. A large cream-coloured barn owl had flown into the parlor and was now and perched happily, on the coat stand. Hooting loudly, it head out its right leg to Harry, who automatically untied the scroll from above its talon's and patted its head.

He slipped the roll out of the blue ribbon it had been tied in and opened it to see penmanship he did not recognize.

Glancing at Hermione, who had stood and was making her way over to him, he turned his attention back to the letter.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I feel a bit foolish writing to you– I of course know that you have much to do at this time in your young life. However, I cannot help but wonder if you would mind popping over for some tea and to see Teddy. He's a baby, of course– can't do much but eat and sleep– but I thought you might like to meet him anyway. He is your godson, and of course I don't expect you to take care of him– heavens no– but I think it might be nice if he had you in his life._

 _Just send faithful Sianse with your response. I hope to see you soon._

– _Andromeda Tonks_

Hermione looked at Harry cautiously. His stomach twisted at the thought of meeting his godson for the first time. Would he look like Tonks? Lupin? How was Harry supposed to be a father figure to this child?

"I don't suppose– er, I don't suppose you'd like to come, 'Mione?" Harry asked tentatively. "It's just– well, I haven't a clue what I'm doing– and–"

"Oh, of course I'll come, Harry!" Hermione responded, smiling and throwing her arms around his neck. "I can't wait to meet him."

"I can," Harry murmured, worried.

"Harry," Hermione said gently. "You're going to be a great godfather, I know you will." She brushed his hair back. "He'll love you, and you'll love him."

Harry made the mistake of meeting Hermione's tender gaze, and once again his stomach became a whirling vortex of panic and excitement. She was so close he could hear her heartbeat and memorize the placement of each strand of hair. Her hazel eyes twinkled at him as she chewed on her bottom lip absently. Clenching his teeth and ignoring the rising heat in his cheeks, Harry nodded numbly. She pulled away from him with a smile and he let out a breath of relief.

"I'll write back and tell her we're free any time, then," Hermione was saying as he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Good, sure," Harry mumbled agreeably. She penned a quick response and shooed Sianse out the window from which she came. With an aggravated hoot and flap of her peach-coloured wings, the owl took off and disappeared into the distance.


	21. Chapter 21

_**A/N: This chapter is kind of crappy. I'm sorry, you guys. I hit writers block then I had a lot of school stuff and I've had this chapter half-written for a while but I've been unable to finish it to my satisfaction. Anyway, here it is.**_

"I'm nervous," Harry told Hermione as she straightened his tie. "And is this really necessary?"

A smile flitted across her face. "A first impression is important," Hermione reminded him, rather sternly. "And you look–"

"Handsome?" Harry finished for her, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

She frowned. "Don't get cheeky on me."

He leaned closer to her, feeling emboldened. "Isn't that what you like about me?"

Hermione swatted his hand away, and shook her head slightly. "Behave, Harry. Especially in front of Teddy, alright?"

He sighed quietly, and ran a hand through his hair. He thought of the boy – his _godson_ – and his mind whirled.

"I'm not ready to do this," Harry muttered under his breath.

"Yes, you are," Hermione insisted in a normal tone. "After all, we're almost the same age your parents were when they had you."

There was a short pause as they both considered this. It was true– Lily and James Potter were 20 when Harry was born– just a few short years away from the two teens. But this was shocking to think about; of course Harry had always wanted a real family, and in his future he had imagined settling down with _someone_ –

This was an unfortunate time to catch Hermione's eye, and Harry felt his cheeks growing red as he quickly looked away.

"So," she was saying in a chipper voice. "Shall we?"

And when Hermione held out her hand, he took it without hesitation.

The brick red door swung open before Harry could knock.

"Harry? Is that you?" Andromeda Tonks' soft voice wavered as she filled the doorframe.

He felt Hermione stiffen beside him as they were both reminded how much she resembled her older sister Bellatrix. Even in the rosy morning light, Harry had to remind himself that Andromeda's hair was lighter, her face softer, and her eyes calmer than that of her sister. He glanced quickly at his companion, noticing Hermione's face was tight and her hazel eyes drawn back in concern. Almost without noticing, Harry took her hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly.

The older woman's eyes flickered downwards as she took in this development, but only for a short moment. Then, she flung her arms around the two of them, her graying hair falling in Harry's eyes.

"I'm so glad you came," she gushed. "I wasn't sure– and you brought– oh, Teddy will be so– it's just–!"

She held them awkwardly for a few moments, just long enough for Harry to begin to feel uncomfortable.

"Oh, forgive my manners. Come in, please, and meet Teddy." With that, Andromeda turned around and bustled inside the one-storey house.

"She looks like–" Hermione began quietly.

"I know," Harry responded. "Do you want to leave?"

She shook her head. "No, no. I'm being silly." Straightening her lilac blouse, Hermione followed Andromeda inside.

The place was lighter than Harry remembered, although he supposed the only time he had been there was late at night. The walls were yellow, the furniture mitch matched and slightly tattered. It looked lived-in, certainly, but unlike the Burrow, there was no order to the chaos.

"I'm so sorry, dears," Andromeda was saying, as she picked up an empty candy wrapper from the floor. "Teddy's a bit– well, he's a bit of a handful, just like Dora–" She paused and blinked rapidly. "Well, let's go meet the little rascal, shall we?"

She hurried over to a crip tucked under an alcove in the corner of the room and reached in, pulling out a tiny child with wide, purple eyes and brilliant turquoise hair. His nose was slightly upturned and his forehead wide.

"This," the older woman said proudly, her eyes glistening. "Is Edward Remus Lupin."

Hermione bit her lip and clutched Harry's hand. "Oh, goodness," she said in a breathy voice that Harry had never heard. "He's... adorable!" She rushed forward and plucked Teddy from Andromeda's arms, holding him tightly and looking as though she was going to cry.

Harry stood stonily and watched the scene before him, his heart racing. What was he supposed to _do_? He had never been particularly good with children. In Hermione's arms, Teddy giggled and his hair grew a good two inches, changing from a blue-green to a bright pink.

"Oh," Harry said, a little shocked. "He's a metamorphmagus?"

Both Hermione and Andromeda turned to him. Hermione rolled her eyes. "You thought he just had naturally turquoise hair?"

The older woman let out a surprisingly bubbly laugh. Harry shuffled his feet and mentally hit himself in the head as the two women giggled at his stupidity. "Can he go outside with me?" Hermione asked suddenly. "The flowers are just starting to bloom."

"Of course he can, dear," Andromeda told her kindly, resembling her sister less and less by the minute. Hermione smiled, lighting up the dismal room, and took the child through the still open door.

"Well," The older woman told Harry as they watched Teddy waddle among the flowers. "I like her. And it seems as though I'm not the only one."

Harry's cheeks tinged slightly pink. "Er, we're not... I mean, Hermione is... the two of us... we're..." But Harry trailed off, unsure of what he and Hermione might be considered. The nights they shared together, cuddled by each other's side, were becoming more numerous. And yet, just yesterday she and Ron had a romantic night out, where, according to Hermione, lying between Harry's arms that night, he had apologized for his earlier behaviour and reaffirmed his affections for her.

And, of course, nothing happened in those night they spent, other than some harmless body contact. Although, for Harry, they were hardly harmless. His stomach twisted at how much he wanted to–

"Well, she seems like a very nice girl," the older woman was saying with a knowing smile.

"Huh," Harry responded tonelessly, deciding he very much liked the sight of Hermione with a small child.


	22. Chapter 22

"Well," Hermione said, a faint smile dancing on her face. "That was fun!"

She kicked off her shoes near the old fireplace they had just emerged from. "You're very lucky, Harry." She told the ebony-haired man standing beside her.

"Mm," Harry nodded in agreement, his mind elsewhere.

"I'd say it's about time for dinner, yeah?" She continued, strolling into the kitchen. "What should we make?"

He followed her, hardly noticing he was.

"Hermione," he said suddenly. She turned around, her brows furrowing when she saw his serious face.

"Is everything–"

"Marry me."

There was a shocked silence. Harry himself did not know what to say. He had not expected this to come out of his mouth.

Hermione shook her head fervently. "Not a funny joke, Harry." She managed, her voice cracking midway through the sentence.

"I'm not joking." Harry told her, more confidently this time. "Marry me, Hermione."

She took a step back, as if he were crazy and she were afraid of him. "What– no!"

Harry felt his throat close. "No?" He wasn't sure what he had expected, but this– "Why– not?"

"Why not?" Hermione was looking at him like he was an alien. Slowly, she put her hands on her hips, then crossed them in front of her, them put them back at her side. "Why not? Well, let's think of a few reasons, shall we? First of all, we're not even dating, we're just _friends–_ "

"Friends don't snog!" Harry protested, his voice rising.

She continued as if she had not told him. "Second, I'm with _Ron,_ your best friend, for Merlin's sake, so I'm not going to freaking marry you–"

"Screw Ron," Harry responded quickly, surprised at the ferocity in his voice.

"And even if those things weren't true, which, let's be clear, _they are_ ," Hermione raised her eyebrows dangerously, her voice high and condescending. "You're not even on one knee– you don't even have a ring– you're not even really proposing! This is just a spontaneous, stupid Harry moment!" She threw her hands up. "This bond stuff is really messing with your head! Now stop, you're really scaring me!" Hermione shuddered and withdrew herself into a corner of the kitchen.

"I'm not proposing to you because of the bond!" Harry fired back. "I'm proposing because... because I think I'm in love with you, 'Mione." His voice faltered. "Don't you love me?"

Hermione bit her lip, her eyes watering. "You don't love me, Harry!" She said with as much conviction as she could. "And I don't love you back."

He felt as though she stabbed him and twisted the knife, all while laughing and hold Ron's arm. "Fine." He murmured, blinking a stray tear away. _I will not cry,_ he told himself. _I will not cry._

"I think I should leave," Hermione said softly. "I think I should... Stay elsewhere."

"With Ron, you mean?" Harry asked, his voice louder than he meant it to be. But there was something wrong with his chest and he couldn't seem to control himself. "Fine! Go run into his arms. Just remember I was always here for you! EVEN WHEN HE WASN'T!"

She began to cry in earnest. "Harry, I'm sorry, but–"

"DON'T!" He screamed, his hands balled into tight fists as he thought of Hermione in Ron's arms. "Just– just get out. Now." He pointed towards the door, but she had already grabbed her bag and was fleeing, slipping out of the door, out of his life. "AND DON'T COME BACK!" Harry yelled after her, his heart heavy and broken.

As he shut the door behind her with a loud _bang,_ Harry Potter slid down on the other side of the door and began to cry.

A/N: Please review! I love reading your thoughts. Even the slightly mean ones :)


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: Hello beautiful humans. I know it's been forever, hasn't it? I've just recently started college and I'm feeling extremely overwhelmed, and I could only write this update in bits and pieces over the past few weeks. I hope this satisfies you for a bit, and I'll try and update again as soon as possible!

It had been a week since Hermione left. A week since Harry had proposed to her. A week since he had slammed the door and told her not to come back.

And she hadn't.

Harry did not seem to be functioning properly. His chest ached all the time, as though there were a bruise there, and a big one. Only when he checked under his worn blue t-shirt there was just pinkish-tan skin.

He had been wandering around Grimmauld Place all week, barely leaving even his room, even for meals.

He kept thinking of Hermione, not even kissing him or anything, but her doing regular stuff. Her hands turning the pages of a book, the way her arm flicked through the air when she waved her wand, when her nose crinkled as she laughed...

Several times, he wrote a letter to her than he did not send. How would you even begin such a letter? Would it be "Dear Hermione" or just "Hermione,"? Or how about, "I'm sorry for proposing to you and ruining any real chance at a relationship with you I ever had?" No, Harry would not write such a letter. He couldn't.

That Friday, exactly one week from their fight, with the taste of Hermione saying she didn't love him still on his lips, Harry went for a walk. His first real time outside in seven days. The sun stung his green eyes and it took both hands shading them to provide any real comfort.

There was no reason for this walk, only that he wasn't sure what else to do. Harry wasn't sure he had ever felt this way before– like an elephant was sitting on his heart.

So he walked, looking for something, for answers, maybe.

And when he finally returned, after hours of aimless wandering, there was the answer he had been searching for.

Hermione Granger was on his doorstep.

* * *

It became clear very quickly that was not the happy reunion Harry had been dreaming of. Hermione was not here to run into his arms or to move back in. She was here because–

–"Ron sent me."

"Since when is Ron your keeper?" Harry asked, barely concealing the venom in his voice.

"Harry!" Hermione chided with a huff.

He skillfully pretended not to hear her. As he walked into the entry hallway and off into the kitchen, Harry realized that there were dozens of dishes piled by the sink. All week he had not washed a single thing. Embarrassed, he strode over to the sink and plunged the first dish in waiting water.

"Harry..." She repeated his name, making his neck tingle. "How can we... fix this? How can we... forget all of this happened?"

Harry did not respond. He wiped the plate clean and placed it on the other side of the sink, before starting on the next one.

He heard her sigh behind him, and then there was a loud _woosh._ The plates, glasses, and silverware flew into the air, assembled, and then proceeded to wash and dry themselves.

"Dammit, Hermione!" Harry shouted, spinning around to face her. The plate he was holding slipped from his soapy, wet hands and shattered at their feet. "I was _washing_ them!"

"Don't you shout at me, Harry James Potter!" Hermione shouted back. "I was doing you a _favor,_ you arse!"

"I was doing it myself just fine!" Harry yelled back, not sure why he was so angry.

"You were ignoring me!" Hermione folded her arms across her chest indignantly.

"You want to talk?" Harry shook his head, pulled a chair from dining room and sat down. "Fine. Talk." Hermione stood there for a moment, as if waiting for him to offer her a chair. He raised his eyebrow, and she remained standing.

"I just..." Hermione began, her voice very, very quiet. "I just want this to be over. I just want to be... your best friend."

"I dunno how that's supposed to happen." Harry deadpanned.

Hermione threw her hands in the air. "For Merlin's sake, what does that mean?"

"It means," Harry replied, staring stonily at his feet. "That we've kissed. That I've kissed you–"

Hermione scoffed. "You're a boy–"

"That you've kissed me–"

"Heat of the moment–"

"That we've slept together!" Harry finished, punctuating the final three words by standing up. The chair crashed to the floor behind him. Neither one noticed.

Hermione looked aghast. "We have not–" She lowered her voice considerably. "We have _not_ slept together!"

Harry shrugged this off. "Close enough."

Hermione swallowed visibly. "Look..." she began, but was then quiet, as if she didn't know how to continue.

"I'll make you a deal," Harry said, not sure where the words were coming from. "Do me a favour, and if you haven't changed your mind after, then I'll–" He frowned slightly. "I'll never speak about any of this again."

She lifted her head, eyes hopeful. "I'll do anything."

Harry gazed at her– the way her curls framed her coffee colored eyes, filled with sleepiness. She was fragile, corruptible, and yet stronger than either of them knew. How had he never seen her this way before? As a person, a breathing human, as someone he truly loved? "Cast a patronus," Harry said, finally, breaking his gaze.

"Sorry?"

"Your patronus. Cast it."

"Harry–"

"You said anything," He reminded her, albeit gently.

Her brow furrowed, and her hand slid into her robe pocket. "Fine," Hermione drew her wand and waved it experimentally. "I haven't cast one since–"

"The accident, I know." Harry finished. He could feel his heart beating loudly and wondered if Hermione could hear it. "Just... think of your happiest memory."

She nodded slowly, the closed her eyes for a split second. "Expecto Patronum!"

From the end of her vine-wood wand a silvery substance flew and gathered itself, almost unsure, into a the shape of creature.

But unlike the last time Hermione had cast the charm, there was no bubbling, playful otter than graced their presence. Just as Harry had hoped, the animal standing placently by Hermione's side was none other than a wide-eyed, silver doe.


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: Fade to black Lemon ahead. Just BTW.

"Oh," Hermione uttered, her voice soft and full of awe. "Oh."

The two former friends stood in silence as they watched the doe dance gracefully around the room.

Their hands found each other, fingers intertwining, and Harry took a deep breath of air, which somehow tasted softer and sweeter.

For a minutes, or maybe hours, the young couple stood, holding hands, watching the patronus move around them. It seemed to Harry as if his own euphoria was fueling Hermione's charm. It was as if they were connected, their souls bowing to each other in an intricate dance and then suddenly embracing.

When Hermione finally broke them out of their stupor by swishing her wand across the silent air in a fluid motion, and the doe vanished back into her magical core.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione flung her arms around his taller form, burrowing herself into his neck, and then they were suddenly kissing, like they never had before, surely and deliberately, deeply. Their tongues touched, nervously at first, then with renewed fervor.

Harry felt a fire within his chest, a strange roaring that made his head numb. He _needed_ her. He needed her _now._

Hermione moaned into his mouth as he picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist like a vice. His brain lacked oxygen but he didn't care, he didn't care about anything but how _good_ she tasted. Had she always tasted this good?

He pushed her up against the kitchen wall, knocking open a cupboard. Glasses flew out and shattered on the tile floor. Neither of the young wizards paid any attention.

Hermione threw her head back as Harry kissed down her pale neck.

"Oh..." She moaned softly, and the fired inside him raged on. He became bolder, kissing down to her perfect collar bone, down to the top of her scoop neck shirt.

He tugged on the blue fabric gently. "Off," Harry said, rather firmly.

She blushed, leaned away from him and grabbed the hem in both hands, pulling it over her head.

He took a deep breath, the gasp caught in his throat.

"Is... everything okay?" Hermione's voice contained a small shudder of embarrassment as she attempted to cover herself. "I can... put it back on..."

She reached for the discarded material but Harry's hand got there first. "No," he said, well aware that his voice was laden with lust. "You look..." Harry struggled to find the right word. "Perfect."

Hermione let the faintest of smiles dance across her lips. She leaned back into him, her chest hot against his. Her mouth found his ear and she chewed on it gently, eliciting a groan from Harry. "Let's go upstairs," She whispered, nibbling on the lobe.

Harry pulled away from her. "Have you–?"

"Never," Hermione looked down at the ground shakily.

"Me neither," Harry admitted. It was something no one but Ginny knew. He had always been embarrassed when it came to sex, and she had been mostly patient about waiting. Harry had never known why, during their brief fling, they hadn't done it, but it had never felt... right. He was glad, suddenly, that Hermione, too, was inexperienced. The thought of her giving herself to Viktor or Ron – the fire roared in his chest.

Hermione raised her eyebrows slightly. "Okay," She said, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. Harry felt a shudder run through him. Feeling bold, he pulled off his jacket and then his shirt, throwing them in the pile started by Hermione's shirt.

He picked her up again, and they fumbled their way up the rickety old stairs. Hermione laughed, a melodic sound, when Harry tripped on the last stair and nearly dropped her.

"Sorry," he muttered, shifting her small form in his arms. "I've got to remember I'm carrying precious cargo..."

This made her laugh and then kiss him again and he grinned at her. They reached the first open bedroom, Harry still hugging Hermione's bare chest to his own, and he laid her gently down on the canopy bed. She pulled him on top of her, and her hands found his belt.

"Can I?" She asked, her face flushed a glorious pink.

He nodded quickly, interested only in kissing her again. As she worked on shedding first his belt and then his trousers, he focused on the taste of her, the smell of her, the feeling of her body against his.

He was certain he had never been this happy in his life.

A/N: Finally, Amiright? :)


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: Hello friends! I'm so so so so very sorry it has been so long. It's been... a very hard couple of months and I just haven't had the motivation. I promise I still plan on continuing this story! I love this story and I am very proud of many parts of it. If you're still here, thank you so much for sticking with me all this way. Enjoy this chapter!

Harry woke in bliss.

Hermione was cupped naked in his arms, her brown curls spilling over over onto his chest. It was happiness unlike anything he had ever known. His chest filled like a balloon, and he decided quite suddenly that he would stay in this bed with her forever.

Hermione shifted in his arms, her soft skin making his tingle when they touched.

Harry sighed contentedly. He closed his eyes and pulled her body closer to his. But just as he floated back into sleep, he felt Hermione stretch and turn over towards him.

"Harry," She said softly. Then, again, louder. "Harry."

"Mm," Harry groaned, his eyes still closed.

"I know you're awake," Hermione said. Harry could just imagine her eyebrows rising. Reluctantly, he fluttered his eyes open.

"Okay, okay, I'm up," He took her in, as her honey eyes gazed at him. She was wildly beautiful like this, her eyes shining at him, her hair a complete mess, her body perfectly curved against his. He felt like punching himself that he hadn't seen her beauty before.

"-which is why we should talk," She finished, looked at him expectantly.

"Sorry?" Harry rubbed his left eye and propped himself up on one arm. "Talk? Now?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at this. "Weren't you listening?"

"No," Harry admitted. "I was a little..." he gestured to her. "Er, distracted." She blushed furiously, and he found himself overwhelmed, lost in her. "You're beautiful," he breathed.

There was a sharp intake of breath on Hermione's end. "Harry..." she began. But she stopped, because Harry's hands had slipped under the sheets, between her thighs. As his fingers found her, Hermione let out a tiny noise, her hands curling into fists against his chest.

Harry found himself grinning. "No," he said, in mock shock. "You're speechless? That's what? Twice, in just a few days?"

Hermione scooted herself away from his eager hands, and he immediately missed with warmth of her body. "We need to talk, Harry," she repeated seriously. "We need to talk before this goes any further."

"Mmm," Harry nodded seriously. "Further." He raised one eyebrow expectantly.

"Hey, I'm serious!" Hermione retorted. "It's important that we–"

A loud noise reverated through the house. Harry and Hermione both lept forward to the edge of the bed, with Hermione holding the covers up to her vunerable chest.

"What was that?" Hermione asked, her brown eyes wide with worry.

Harry felt his stomach clench. He very well knew how it would look for them to be found like this. Especially if it were by–

"Hullo! Harry! It's me, Ron..."

Both Hermione and Harry let out a long string of curses as they launched themselves out of bed. In another situation, it might have been comical how the tangled covers around their legs spun them into each other's arms.

Maybe.

But now, they were frantic, shoving at each other, pulling on discarded pants and socks and shirts.

"Harry..." Hermione whispered, her eyes frantic.

Understanding her fears immediately, Harry pressed his lips against hers. She rose on her toes to meet him, but they broke apart quickly.

"Just... just stay here," Harry told him, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I'll... I'll fix this."

Pull his belt from the bedpost, Harry raced out the door while Hermione stood helplessly behind him.

He wrapped his belt around his loose jeans while he bounded down the stairs.

There was another pound on the door. "Harry! Harry, are you there?"

"Er, coming, Ron!" He yelled right before he reached the landing to the second floor. Rounding the corner, Harry tripped over his jean leg and nearly tumbled to the bottom of the stairs.

His hand finally on the door, Harry took a long, deep breath before turning the knob. _I wish Hermione were here,_ he thought briefly, longingly, as he pulled open the door.

"Harry," Ron said in relief, letting out a long breath. "Thank Merlin. Do you know where Hermione is?"

Harry's breath hitched in his throat. "Her–hermione?" He asked dumbly.

"Yeah, my girlfriend, Hermione?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "Did you just wake up? You're a mess, mate." He took Harry in for a moment. "By the way, where'd you get that shirt?"

Harry looked down blankly. "Oh, great–" he muttered, his cheeks growing red. In his rush, he had put on Hermione's baby blue tank top. "Er... yeah, I just got up, and this is the first thing I grabbed, I guess." He was surprised at how easily the lie rolled off of his tongue. Maybe it was the way that Ron called Hermione his girlfriend, like she was his, that made Harry lie so quickly to his best mate.

"But no, I don't know where she is," Harry lied again.

"That's weird," Ron said, seeming to believe him, to his relief. "She said she was coming over here to... talk to you."

"Talk to me." Harry deadpanned.

"Er..." Ron shuffled his feet. "She said you guys fought about something." He blinked a few times, then looked at Harry. "What... what happened between you guys?"

Harry thought of Hermione, upstairs in her room. He thought about kissing her like nothing else mattered. He thought about pulling off her shirt, about her chewing gently on his earlobe, about sleeping with her curled up next to him, her head on his chest. He thought about how he felt about her. "Nothing happened, Ron."

"Actually, Ron," Hermione said from behind them, swaying in the stairway. "That's not... entirely true."


End file.
